Black Caesar's Clan : A Florida Mystery Story

by Albert Payson Terhune

  CHAPTER IX

  THE FIGURE IN WHITE

  For a moment none of the three spoke. Standish and his sisterstared at each other in dumb horror. Then Milo took anuncertain step toward the door. Brice made no move to checkhim, but stood looking quietly on, with the detachedexpression of a man who watches an interesting stage drama.

  Just within the threshold, Standish paused, irresolute, hisfeatures working. And Gavin Brice, as before, read hisemotions as though they were writ in large letters. He knewMilo was not only a giant in size and in strength, but that inordinary circumstances or at bay he was valiant enough. Butit is one thing to meet casual peril, and quite another tofare forth in the dark among six savage men, all of whom arewaiting avidly for the chance to murder.

  A braver warrior than Milo Standish might well have hesitatedto face sure death in such a form, for the mere sake of savinga man whom he feared and hated, and whose existence threatenedhis own good name and liberty.

  Wherefore, just within the shelter of the open door, the giantpaused and hung back, fighting for the nerve to go forth onhis fatal errand of heroism. Gavin, studying him, saw with vividclearness the weakness of character which had made this man thedupe and victim of Hade, and which had rendered him helpless againstthe wiles of a master-mind.

  But if Standish hesitated, Claire did not. After one look ofscornful pity at her wavering half-brother, she moved swiftlypast him to the threshold. There was no hint of hesitation inher free step as she ran to the rescue of the man who hadruined Milo's career. And both onlookers knew she would braveany and all the dire perils of the lurking marauders, in orderto warn back the unconsciously oncoming Hade.

  As she sped through the doorway, Brice came to himself, with astart. Springing forward, he caught the flying little figureand swung it from the ground. Disregarding Claire's violentstruggles, he bore her back into the house, shutting andlocking the door behind her and standing with his back to it.

  "You can't go, Miss Standish!" he said, in stern command, asif rebuking some fractious child. "Your little finger isworth more than that blackguard's whole body. Besides," headded, grimly, "mocking birds, that sing nearly three weeksahead of schedule, must be prepared to pay the bill."

  She was struggling with the door. Then, realizing that shecould not open it, she ran to the nearest window which lookedout on the lawn and the path-head. Tugging at the sash sheflung it open, and next fell to work at the shutter-bars. Asshe threw wide the shutters, and put one knee on the sill,Milo Standishcaught her by the shoulder. Roughly drawing her back into theroom, he said:

  "Brice is right. It's not your place to go. It would besuicide. Useless suicide, at that. I'd go, myself. But--but--"

  "'They that take up the sword shall perish by the sword,'"quoted Gavin, tersely. "The man who sets traps must expect tostep into a trap some day. And those Caesars will be moremerciful assassins than the moccasin snakes would have been.... He's taking plenty of time, to cover that last hundredyards. Perhaps he met the conch boy, running back, and hadsense enough to take alarm."

  "Not he," denied Standish. "That fool boy was so scared, he'dplunge into the brush or the water, the second he heardRodney's step. Those conchs can keep as mum as Seminoles.He'd never let Rodney see him or hear him. He--"

  Standish did not finish his sentence. Into his slow-movingbrain, an idea dawned. Leaning far out of the window andshouting at the top of his enormous lungs, he bawled throughthe night:

  "Hade! Back, man! Go back! They'll kill you!"

  The bull-like bellow might have been heard for half a mile.And, as it ceased, a muffled snarling, like a dog's, came fromthe edge of the forest, where waited the silent men whoseknives were drawn for the killing.

  And, in the same instant, from the head of the path, driftedthe fluting notes of a mocking bird.

  Disregarding or failing to catch the meaning of thethickly-bellowed warning, Rodney Hade was advancingnonchalantly upon his fate. The three in the hallway crowdedinto the window-opening, tense, wordless, mesmerized, peeringaghast toward the screen of vines which veiled the end of thepath.

  The full moon, which Brice had glimpsed as it was rising, aminute or so before, now breasted the low tops of the orangetrees across the highroad and sent a level shaft of lightathwart the lawn. Its clear beams played vividly on the darkforest, revealing the screen of vines at the head of the path,and revealing also three crouching dark figures, close to theground, at the very edge of the lawn, not six feet from thepath head.

  And, almost instantly, with a third repetition of the mockingbird call, the vine screen was swept aside. Out into themoonshine sauntered a slight figure, all in white, yachtingcap on head, lighted cigarette in hand.

  The man came out from the black vine-screen, and, for asecond, stood there, as if glancing carelessly about him.Milo Standish shouted again, at the top of his lungs. Andthis time, Claire's voice, like a silver bugle, rang out withhis in that cry of warning.

  But, before the dual shout was fairly launched, three darkbodies had sprung forward and hurled themselves on theunsuspecting victim. There was a tragically brief struggle.Then, all four were on the ground, the vainly-battling whitebody underneath. And there was a gruesome sound as of angrybeasts worrying their meat.

  Carried out of his own dread, by the spectacle, MiloStandish vaulted over the sill and out onto the veranda. Butthere he came to a halt. For there was no further need forhim to throw away his own life in the belated effort atrescue.

  The three black figures had regained their feet. And, on thetrampled lawn-edge in front of them lay a huddle of white,with darker stains splashed here and there on it. The bodylay in an impossible posture--a posture which Nature neitherintends nor permits. It told its own dreadful story, to themost uninitiated of the three onlookers at the window.

  With dragging feet, Milo Standish turned back, and reenteredthe house, as he had gone out of it.

  "I am a coward!" he said, heavily. "I could have saved him.Or we could have fought, back to back, till we were killed.It would have been a white man's way of dying. I am acoward!"

  He sank down in a chair and buried his bearded face in hishands. No one contradicted him or made any effort at comfort.Claire, deathly pale, still crouched forward, staring blindlyat the moveless white figure at the head of the path.

  "Peace to his soul!" said Brice, in a hushed voice, addingunder his breath: "If he had one!"

  Then, laying his hand gently on Claire's arm, he drew her awayfrom the window and shut the blinds on the sight which had sohorrified them.

  "Go and lie down, Miss Standish," he bade her. "This has beenan awful thing for you or any other woman to look on. Take adouble dose of aromatic spirits of ammonia, and tell one ofthe maids to bring you some black coffee .... Do as I say,please!" he urged, as she looked mutely at him and made nomove to obey. "You may need your strength and your nerve.And--try to think of anything but what you've just seen.Remember, he was an outlaw, a murderer, the man who wreckedyour brother's honorable life, a thorough-paced blackguard, aman who merits no one's pity. More than that, he was one ofGermany's cleverest spies, during the war. His life wasforfeit, then, for the injury he did his country. I am notheartless in speaking this way of a man who is dead. I do it,so that you may not feel the horror of his killing as youwould if a decent man had died, like that. Now go, please."

  Tenderly, he led her to the foot of the stairs. The house manwas just returning from the locking of the upstairs shutters.To him Brice gave the order for coffee to be taken to her roomand for one of the maids to attend her there.

  As she passed dazedly up the stairs, Gavin stood over thebroken giant who still sat inert and huddled in his chair,face in hands.

  "Buck up!" said Brice, impatiently. "If you can grieve for aman who made you his slave and--"

  "Grieve for him?" repeated Standish, raising his haggard face."Grieve for him? I thank God he's dead. I hated him as Inever hated any one else or though
t I could hate any one! Ihated him as we hate the man in whose power we are and whouses us as helpless pawns in his dirty game. I'd have killedhim long ago, if I had had the nerve, and if he hadn't made mebelieve he had a charmed life. His death means freedom tome--glorious freedom! It's for my own foul cowardice that I'mgrieving. The cowardice that held me here while a man's lifemight have been saved by me. That's going to haunt me as longas I live."

  "Bosh!" scoffed Gavin. "You'll get over it. Self-forgivenessis the easiest blessing to acquire. You're better of it,already, or you couldn't talk so glibly about it. Now, aboutthis treasure-business: You know, of course, that you'll haveto drop it,--that you'll have to give up every cent of it tothe Government? If you can't find the cache, up North, whereHade used to send it when he lugged it away from here, it islikely to go a bit hard with you. I'm going to do all I canto get you clear. Not for your own sake, but for yoursister's. But you'll have to 'come through, clean,' if I'm tohelp you. Now, if you've got anything to say--"

  He paused, invitingly. Milo gaped at him, the big beardedface working convulsively. Nerves wrenched, easily dominatedby a stronger nature, the giant was struggling in vain toresume his pose of not understanding Brice's allusions.Presently, with a sigh, that was more like a grunt ofhopelessness, he thrust his fingers into an inner pocket ofhis waistcoat, and drew forth a somewhat tarnished silverdollar. This he held toward Gavin, in his wide palm.

  Brice took the coin from him and inspected it withconsiderable interest. In spite of the tarnish and theancient die and date, its edges were as sharp and its surfaceas unworn as though it had been minted that very year.Clearly, this dollar had jingled in no casual pockets, alongwith other coins, nor had it been sweated or marred by anysort of use.

  "Do you know what that is?" asked Milo.

  "Yes," said Brice. "It is a United States silver dollar,dated '1804.'"

  "Do you know its value?" pursued Milo. "But of course youdon't. You probably think it is worth its weight in silverand nothing more."

  "It is, and it isn't," returned Gavin. "If I were to takethis dollar, to-night, to the right groups of numismatists,they would pay me anywhere from $3,000 to $7,000 for it."

  "Oh!" exclaimed Standish, in visible surprise. "You knowsomething about numismatics, then?"

  "Just a little," modestly admitted Brice. "In my work, onehas to have a smattering of it. For instance--if I rememberrightly--there are only three of these 1804 silver dollarsgenerally known to be in existence. That is why collectorsare ready to pay a fortune for authentic specimens of them, ingood condition. Yes, a smattering of numismatics may come inhandy, at times. So does sailor lore. It did, for instance,with a chap I used to know. He had read up, on this specialdollar. He was dead-broke. He was passing the Gloucesterwaterfront, one day, and saw a dockful of rotting old schoonersthat were being sold at auction for firewood and for such bitsof their metal as weren't rusted to pieces. He read the catalog.Then he telegraphed to me to wire him a loan of one hundreddollars. For the catalog gave the date of one schooner'sbuilding as 1804. He knew it used to be a hard-and-fastcustom of ship-builders to put a silver dollar under themainmast of every vessel they built, a dollar of thatparticular year. He bought the schooner for $70. He spentten dollars in hiring men to rip out her mast. Under it wasan 1804 dollar. He sold it for $3,600."

  "Since you know so much about the 1804 dollar," went on Milo,catechizingly, "perhaps you know why it is so rare? Orperhaps you didn't add a study of American history to yournumismatics?"

  "The commonly accepted story goes," said Brice, taking no heedof the sneer, "that practically the whole issue of 1804dollars went toward the payment of the Louisiana Purchasemoney, when Uncle Sam paid Napoleon Bonaparte's government atrifle less than $15,000,000 (or under four cents an acre) forthe richest part of the whole United States. Payment was madein half a dozen different forms,--in settlement of anti-Frenchclaims and in installment notes, and so forth. But somethingbetween a million and two million dollars of it is said tohave been paid in silver."

  "Are you a schoolmaster, Mr. Brice?" queried Milo, who seemedunable to avoid sneering in futile fashion at the man who wasdominating his wavering willpower.

  "No, Mr. Standish," coolly replied the other. "I am GavinBrice, of the United States Secret Service."

  Standish's bearded jaw dropped. He glanced furtively abouthim, like a trapped rat. Gavin continued, authoritatively:

  "You've nothing to fear from me, as long as you play straight.And I'm here to see that you shall. Two hours ago, I was forrenouncing my life-work and throwing over my job. Never mindwhy. I've changed my mind, now. I'm in this thing to thefinish. With Hade out of the game, I can see my way through."

  "But--"

  "Now I'll finish the yarn you were so gradually leading up towith those schoolboy questions of yours. French statesmenclaimed, last year, that something over a million dollars ofthe Louisiana purchase money was never paid to France. Thatwas money, in the form of silver dollars, which went by sea.In skirting the Florida coast--probably on the way from somemint or treasury in the South--one or more of the treasureships parted from their man-o'-war escorts in a hurricane, andwent aground on the southeastern Florida reefs. The blackpirate, Caesar, and his cutthroats did the rest.

  "This was no petty haul, such as Caesar was accustomed to, andit seems to have taken his breath away. He and his crewcarried it into Caesar's Estuary--not Caesar's Creek--aninlet, among the mangrove swamps. They took it there bynight, and sank it in shallow water, under the bank. Therethey planned to have it until it might be safe to divide itand to scatter to Europe or to some place where they couldlive in safety and in splendor. Only a small picked crew ofCaesar's knew the hiding place. And, by some odd coincidence,every man of them died of prussic acid poisoning, at abooze-feast that Caesar invited them to, at his shack down onCaesar's creek, a month later. Then, almost at onceafterward, as you've probably heard, Caesar himself had thebad luck to die with extreme suddenness.

  "The secret was lost. Dozens of pirates and of wreckers--ancestorsof the conchs--knew about the treasure. But noneof them could find it.

  "There was a rumor that Caesar had written instructions aboutit, on the flyleaf of a jeweled prayer book that was part ofsome ship's loot. But his heirs sold or hocked theprayer-book, at St. Augustine or Kingston or Havana, beforethis story reached them. None of them could have read it,anyhow. Then, last year, Rodney Hade happened upon that book,(with the jewels all pried out of the cover, long ago), in anegro cabin on Shirley Street, at Nassau, after hunting forit, off and on, for years. The Government had been huntingfor it, too, but he got to it a week ahead of us. That washow we found who had it. And that is why we decided to watchhim .... Do you want me to keep on prattling about thesethings, to convince you I'm what I say I am? Or have you hadenough?

  "For instance, do you want me to tell you how Hade wound hisweb around a blundering fool whose help and whose hidden pathand tunnel and caches he needed, in order to make sure of thetreasure? Or is it enough for me to say the dollars belong tothe United StatesGovernment, and that Uncle Sam means to have them back?"

  Standish still gaped at him, with fallen jaw and bulging eyes.Gavin went on:

  "Knowing Hade's record and his cleverness as I do, I can guesshow he was going to swing the hoard when he finishedtransporting all of it to safety. Probably, he'd clear up agood many thousand dollars by selling the coins, one at atime, secretly, to collectors who would think he was sellingthem the only 1804 dollar outside the three already known tobe in existence. When that market was glutted, he was due tomelt down the rest of the dollars into bar silver. Silver ishigh just now, you know. Worth almost double what once itwas. The loot ought to have been much the biggest thing inhis speckled career. How much of it he was intending to passalong to you, is another question. By the way--the threecanvas bags he left out by the kiosk ought to do much towardwhetting the Caesars' appetite for the rest. It may even ke
ythem up to rushing the house before morning."

  "We'll be ready for them!" spoke up Standish, harshly, asthough glad to have a prospect of restoring his brokenself-respect by such a clash.

  "Quite so," agreed Gavin, smiling at the man's new ardor forbattle. "It would be a pleasant little brush--if it weren'tfor your sister. Miss Standish has seen about enough of thatsort of thing for one night. If she weren't a thoroughbred,with the nerves of a thoroughbred and the pluck as well, she'dbe a wreck, from what has happened already. More of it mightbe seriously bad for her."

  Standish glowered. Then he lifted his bulky body from the lowchair and crossed the hall to the telephone. Taking thereceiver from the hook, he said sulkily to Brice:

  "Maybe you're right. I have a couple of night watchmenpatrolling the road, above and below. I'll phone to theagency to send me half a dozen more, to clear the grounds.I'd phone the police about it, but I don't like--"

  "Don't like to lock the stable door after the horse isstolen?" suggested Brice. "Man, get it into that thick skullof yours that the time for secrecy is past! Your game is up.Hade is dead. Your one chance is to play out the rest of thishand with your cards on the table. The Government knows youare only the dupe. It will let you off, if the money is--"

  "What in blue blazes is the matter with Central?" growledMilo, whanging the receiver-hook up and down in vexation. "Isshe dead?"

  Gavin went over to him and took the receiver out of his hand.Listening for a moment, he made answer:

  "I don't believe Central is dead. But I know this phone is.Our Caesar friends seem to be more sophisticated than Ithought. They've cut the wires, from outside."

  "H'm!" grunted Milo. "That means we've got to play a lonehand. Well, I'm not sorry. I--"

  "Not necessarily," contradicted Gavin. "I'd ratherhave relied on the local watchmen, of course. But theirabsence needn't bother us, overmuch."

  "What do you mean?"

  Before Gavin could answer, a stifled cry from the hallwayabove brought both men to attention. It was followed by asound of lightly running feet. And Claire Standish appearedat the stair-top. She was deathly pale, and her dark eyeswere dilated with terror.

  Gavin ran up the steps to meet her. For she swayed perilouslyas she made her way down toward the men.

  "What is it?" demanded Milo, excitedly. "What's happened?"

  Claire struggled visibly to regain her composure. Then,speaking with forced calmness, she said:

  "I've just seen a ghost! Rodney Hade's ghost!"

  The two looked at her in dumb incomprehension. Then, withouta word, Milo wheeled and strode to the window from which theyhad watched the tragedy. Opening the shutter, he peered outinto the moonlight.

  "Hade's still lying where he fell," he reported, tersely."They haven't even bothered to move him. You were dreaming.If--"

  "I wasn't asleep," she denied, a trace of color beginning tocreep back into her blanched cheeks. "I had just lain down.I heard--or thought I heard--a sound on the veranda roof. Ipeeped out through the grill of the shutter. There, on theroof, not ten feet away from me, stood Rodney Hade. He wasdressed in rags. But I recognized him. I saw his face, asclearly as I see yours. He--"

  "One of the Caesars," suggested Brice. "They found the lowerwindows barred and they sent some one up, to see if there wasany ingress by an upper window. The porch is easy to climb,with all those vines. So is the whole house, for that matter.He--"

  "It was Rodney Hade!" she insisted, shuddering. "I saw hisface with the moonlight on it--"

  "And with a few unbecoming scratches on it, too, from theunderbrush and from those porch vines," chimed in a suavevoice from the top of the stairs. "Milo, next time you baryour house, I suggest you don't forget and leave the cupolawindow open. If it was easy for me to climb up there from theveranda roof, it would be just as easy for any of our friendsout yonder."

  Down the stairs--slowly, nonchalantly,--lounged Rodney Hade.

  His classic mask of a face was marred by one or two scratchesand by a smudge of dirt. But it was as calm and as eternallysmiling as ever. In place of his wontedly correct, if garish,form of dress, he was clad in ragged calico shirt and soileddrill trousers whose lower portions were in ribbons. All ofwhich formed a ludicrous contrast to his white buckskinyachting shoes and his corded white silk socks.

  Claire and the two men stood staring up at him in utterincredulity. Bobby Burns broke the spell by boundingsnarlingly toward the unkempt intruder.

  Brice absentmindedly caught the dog's collar as Bobby streakedpast him on his punitive errand.

  "Hade!" croaked Standish, his throat sanded with horror.'"'Hade! I--we--we saw you--murdered!"

  Hade laughed pleasantly.

  "Perhaps the wish was father to the thought?" he hinted, withan indulgent twinkle in his perpetual smile. "I hatemysteries. Here's an end to this one I was on my way along thepath, when a young fellow came whirling around a bend and collidedwith me. The impact knocked him off his feet. I collared him.He didn't want to talk. But," the smile twisting upward at onecorner of the mouth in a look which did not add to the beauty ofthe ascetic face, "I used persuasion. And I found what was goingon here. I stripped off my outer clothes, and made him put themon. Then I put my yachting cap on him and pulled it low overhis eyes. And I bandaged his mouth with my handkerchief, togag him. Then I walked him along, ahead of me. I gave thesignal. And I stuck my cigarette in his hand and shoved himthrough the screen of vines. They finished him, poor fool! Ihad no outer clothes of my own. So I went back and put onhis. Then I slipped through that chuckle-headed aggregationout there and--here I am."

  As he finished speaking, he turned his icy smile upon GavinBrice.

  "Roke signaled a fruit boat, Mr. Brice," said he, "and cameover to where my yacht was lying, to tell me you had gottenloose. That was why I came here, tonight. He seems to thinkyou know more than a man should know and yet stay alive. And,as a rule, he is apt to be right. He--"

  "Miss Standish," interposed Gavin, "would you mind very much,going into some other room? This isn't a pleasant scene foryou."

  "Stay where you are, for a minute, Claire!" commanded Milo,shaking off a lethargy of wonder which had settled upon him,at sight of his supposedly dead tyrant. "I want you to hearwhat I've got to say. And I want you to endorse it. I've hada half hour of freedom. And it's meant too much to me, to letme go back into the hell I've lived through, this past fewmonths."

  He wheeled about on the newcomer and addressed him, speakingloudly and rapidly in a voice hoarse with rage:

  "Hade, I'm through! Get that? I'm through! You can forecloseon my home here, and you can get me sent to prison for thatcheck I was insane enough to raise when I had no way out of thehole. But I'm through. It isn't worth it. Nothing is worthhaving to cringe and cheat for. I'm through cringing to you.And I'm through cheating the United States Government. Youweren't content with making me do that. You tried, to-day, tomake me a murderer--to make me your partner in the death of theman who had saved my life. When I found that out--when I learnedwhat you could stoop to and could drag me to,--I swore to myselfto cut free from you, for all time. Now, go ahead and do yourdirtiest to me and to mine. What I said, goes. And it goes formy sister, too. Doesn't it, dear girl?"

  For answer, Claire caught her brother's big hand in both ofhers, and raised it to her lips. A light of happinesstransfigured her face. Milo pulled away his hand, bashfully,his eyes misting at her wordless praise for his belatedlymanly action.

  "Good!" he approved, passing his arm about her and drawing herclose to him. "I played the cur once, this evening. It'sgood to know I've had enough pluck to do this one white thing,to help make up for it."

  He faced Gavin, head thrown back, giant shoulders squared,eyes alight.

  "Mr. Brice," he said, clearly. "Through you, I surrender tothe United States Government. I'll make a signed confession,any time you want it. I'm your prisoner."

  Gavin
shook his head.

  "The confession will be of great service, later," said he,"and, as state's evidence, it will clear you from any dangerof punishment. But you're not my prisoner. Thanks to yourpromise of a confession. I have a prisoner, here. But it isnot you."

  "No?" suavely queried Hade, whose everlasting smile had notchanged and whose black eyes remained as serene as ever,through the declaration of rebellion on the part of hissatellite. "If Standish is not your prisoner, he'll be theState of Florida's prisoner, by this time to-morrow, when Ihave lodged his raised check with the District Attorney.Think that over, Standish, my dear friend. Seven years forforgery is not a joyous thing, even in a Florida prison.Here, in the community where your family's name has beenhonored, it will come extra hard. And on Claire, here, too.Mightn't it be better to think that over, a minute or so,before announcing your virtuous intent? Mightn't--"

  "Don't listen to him, Milo!" cried the girl, seizingStandish's hand again in an agony of appeal, and smilingencouragingly up into his sweating and irresolute face."We'll go through any disgrace, together. You and I. Andafter it's all over, I'll give up my whole life to making youhappy, and helping you to get on your feet again."

  "There'll be no need for that, Miss Standish," said Brice."Of course, Hade can foreclose his mortgage on your half-brother'sproperty and call in Standish's notes,--if he's in aposition to do it, which I don't think he will be. But, asfor the raised check, why, he's threatening Standish with anempty gun. Hade, if ever you get home again, look in thecompartment of your strongbox where you put the red-sealedenvelope with Standish's check in it. The envelope is stillthere. So are the seals. The check is not. You can verifythat, for yourself, later, perhaps. In the meantime, take myword for it."

  A cry of delight from Claire--a groan from Standish thatcarried with it a world of supreme relief--broke in uponGavin's recital. Paying no heed to either of his hosts, Bricewalked across to the unmovedly smiling Hade, and placed onehand on the latter's shoulder.

  "Mr. Hade," said he, quietly, "I am an officer of the FederalSecret Service. I place you under arrest, on charges of--"

  With a hissing sound, like a striking snake's, Rodney Hadeshook off the detaining hand. In the same motion, he leapedbackward, drawing from his torn pocket an automatic pistol.

  Brice, unarmed, stood for an instant looking into the squatlittle weapon's black muzzle, and at the gleaming black eyesin the ever-smiling white face behind it.

  He was not afraid. Many times, before, had he faced leveledguns, and, like many another war-veteran, he had outgrown thenormal man's dread of such weapons.

  But as he was gathering his strength for a spring at hisopponent, trusting that the suddenness and unexpectedness ofhis onset might shake the other's aim, Rodney Hade took thesituation into his own hands.

  Not at random had he made that backward leap. Still coveringGavin with his pistol, he flashed one hand behind him andpressed the switch-button which controlled the electric lightsin the hallway and the adjoining rooms.

  Black darkness filled the place. Brice sprang forward throughthe dark, to grapple with the man. But Hade was nowherewithin reach of Brice's outflung arms. Rodney had slipped,snakelike, to one side, foreseeing just such a move on thepart of his foe.

  Gavin strained his ears, to note the man's direction. ButMilo Standish was thrashing noisily about in an effort tolocate and seize the fugitive. And the racket his huge bodymade in hitting against furniture and in caroming off thewalls and doors, filled the hall with din.

  Remembering at last the collie's presence in that mass ofdarkness, Gavin shouted:

  "Bobby! Bobby Burns! Take him!"

  From somewhere in the gloom, there was a beast-snarl and ascurry of clawed feet on the polished floor. At the same timethe front door flew wide.

  Silhouetted against the bright moonlight, Brice had amomentary glimpse of Hade, darting out through the doorway,and of a tawny-and-white canine whirlwind flying at the man'sthroat.

  But Brice's shout of command had been a fraction of a secondtoo late. Swiftly as had the collie obeyed, Rodney Hade hadalready reached and silently unbarred the door, by the timethe dog got under way. And, as Bobby Burns sprang, the doorslammed shut in his face, leaving the collie growling andtearing at the unyielding panels.

  Then it was that Claire found the electric switch, with hergroping hands, and pressed the button. The hall and itsadjoining rooms were flooded with light, revealing theredoubtable Bobby Burns hurling himself again and again at theclosed door.

  Gavin shoved the angry dog aside, and opened the portal. Hesprang out, the dog beside him. And as they did so, both ofthem crashed into a veranda couch which Hade, in escaping,had thrust across the closed doorway in anticipation ofjust such a move.

  Over went the couch, under the double impetus. By catching atthe doorway frame, Gavin barely managed to save himself from anasty fall. The dog disentangled himself from an avalanche ofcouch cushions and made furiously for the veranda steps.

  But Brice summoned him back. He was not minded to let Bobbyrisk life from knife-cut or from strong, strangling hands, outthere in the perilous shadows beyond the lawn. And he knewthe futility of following Hade, himself, among merciless menand through labyrinths with whose' windings Rodney was farmore familiar than was he. So, reluctantly, he turned backinto the house. A glance over the moonlit lawn revealed nosign of the fugitive.

  "I'm sorry," he said to Standish, as he shut the door behindhim and patted the fidgetingly excited Bobby Burns on thehead. "I may never have such a good chance at him again. Andyour promise of a confession was the thing that made me arresthim. Your evidence would have been enough to convict him.And that's the only thing that could have convicted him ormade it worth while to arrest him. He's worked too skillfullyto give us any other hold on him .... I was a thick-wittedidiot not to think, sooner, of calling to Bobby. I'd stoppedhim, once, when he went for Hade, and of course he wouldn'tattack again, right away, without leave. A dog sees in thedark, ten times as well as any man does. Bobby was thesolution. And I forgot to use him till it was too late. Witha collie raging at his throat, Hade would have had plenty oftrouble in getting away, or even in using his gun. Lord, butI'm a dunce!"

  "You're--you're,--splendid!" denied Claire, her eyes soft andshining and her cheeks aglow. "You faced that pistol withoutone atom of fear. And I could see your muscles tensing for aspring, right at him, before the light went out."

  Gavin Brice's heart hammered mightily against his ribs, at hereager praise. The look in her eyes went to his brain.Through his mind throbbed the exultant thought:

  "She saw my muscles tense as he aimed at me. That means shewas looking at me! Not at him. Not even at the pistol. Shecouldn't have done that, unless--unless--"

  "What's to be done, now?" asked Milo, turning instinctively toGavin for orders.

  The question brought the dazedly joyous man back to hissenses. With exaggerated matter-of-factness, he made reply:

  "Why, the most sensible thing we can all do just now is to eatdinner. A square meal works wonders in bracing people up.Miss Standish, do you think you can rouse the maids to aneffort to get us some sort of food? If not, we can forage forourselves, in the icebox. What do you think?"

  * * * * *

  Two hours later--after a sketchy meal served by trembling-handedservants--the trio were seated in the music-room. Over and over,a dozen times, they had reviewed their position, from all angles.And they had come to the conclusion that the sanest thing to dowas to wait in comfortable safety behind stoutly shuttered windowsuntil the dawn of day should bring the place's laborers back towork. Daylight, and the prospect of others' presence on thegrounds, was certain to disperse the Caesars. And it would beample time then to go to Miami and to safer quarters, while Gavinshould start the hunt after Rodney Hade. The two men had agreedto divide the night into watches.

  "One of the torpedo-boat destroyers down yonder, off Miami,can
ferret out Hade's yacht and lay it by the heels, in notime," explained Brice. "His house is watched, always,lately. And every port and railroad will be watched, too.The chief reason I want to get hold of him is to find where hehas sent the treasure. You have no idea, either of you?"

  "No," answered Milo. "He explained to me that he was sendingit North, to a place where nobody could possibly find it, andthat, as soon as it was all there, he'd begin disposing of it.Then we were to have our settlement, after it was melted downand sold."

  "Who works with him? I mean, who helps him bring the stuffhere? Who, besides you, I mean?"

  "Why, his yacht-crew," said Milo. "They're all picked men ofhis own. Men he has known for years and has bound to himselfin all sorts of ways. He has only eleven of them, for it's asmall yacht. But he says he owns the souls of each and everyone of the lot. He pays them double wages and gives them afat bonus on anything he employs them on. They're nearly allof them men who have done time, and--"

  "A sweet aggregation for this part of the twentieth century!"commented Gavin. "I wish I'd known about all that," he added,musingly. "I supposed you and one or two men like Roke werethe only--"

  "Roke is more devoted to him than any dog could be," saidClaire. "He worships him. And, speaking of dogs, I leftBobby Burns in the kitchen, getting his supper. I forgot allabout him."

  She set down Simon Cameron, who was drowsing in her lap, andgot to her feet. As she did so, a light step sounded in thehallway, outside. Gavin jumped up and hurried past her.

  He was just in time to see Rodney Hade cross the last yard orso of the hallway, and unlock and open the front door.

  The man had evidently entered the house from above, though allthe shutters were still barred and the door from the cupolahad later been locked. Remembering the flimsy lock on thatdoor, Gavin realized how Hade could have made an entrance.

  But why Hade was now stealing to the front door and openingit, was more than his puzzled brain could grasp. All thisflashed through Brice's mind, as he caught sight of his enemy,and at the same time he was aware that Hade was no longer cladin rags, but wore a natty white yachting suit.

  Before these impressions had had full time to registerthemselves on Gavin's brain, he was in motion. This time, hewas resolved, the prey should not slip through his fingers.

  As Brice took the first forward-springing step, Hade finishedunfastening the door and flung it wide.

  In across the threshold poured a cascade of armed men.Hard-faced and tanned they were, one and all, and dressed asyacht sailors.

  Then Gavin Brice knew what had happened, and that his own lifewas not worth a chipped plate.

  CHAPTER X

  THE GHOST TREE

  Claire Standish had followed Brice to the curtained doorway ofthe library. She, too, had heard the light step in the hall.Its sound, and the galvanizing effect it had had on Gavin,aroused her sharp interest.

  She reached the hallway just in time to see Hade swing openthe door and admit the thronging group of sailors from hisyacht.

  But not even the sight of Hade, and these ruffians of his,astounded her as did the action of Gavin Brice.

  Brice had been close behind Hade as the door swung wide. Hisincipient rush after his enemy had carried him thus far, whenthe tables had so suddenly been turned against him and theStandishes.

  Now, without pausing in his onward dash, he leaped past Hadeand straight among the in-pouring sailors.

  Hade had not been aware of Brice's presence in the hall. Thesailors' eyes were momentarily dazzled by the brightness ofthe lights. Thus, they did not take in the fact of theplunging figure, in time to check its flight.

  Straight through their unprepared ranks Gavin Brice tore hisway. So might a veteran football halfbacksmash a path through the rushline of a vastly inferior team.

  Hade cried out to his men, and drew his pistol. But even ashe did so, the momentarily glimpsed Gavin was lost to hisview, amid the jostling and jostled sailors.

  Past the loosely crowding men, Brice ripped his way, and outonto the veranda which he cleared at a bound. Then, runninglow, but still at top speed, he sped around the bottom of theporch, past the angle of the house and straight for the farside.

  He did not make for the road, but for the enclosure into whichhe had peeped that morning, and for the thick shade which shutoff the moon's light.

  Now, he ran with less caution. For, he knew the arrival of soformidable a body of men must have been enough to send theCaesars scattering for cover.

  Before he reached the enclosure he veered abruptly to oneside, dashing across a patch of moonlit turf, and heading forthe giant live oak that stood gauntly in its center.

  Under the "Ghost Tree's" enormous shade he came to a stop,glancing back to see if the direction of his headlong flighthad been noted. Above him towered the mighty corpse of whathad once been an ancestral tree. He remembered how it hadstood there, bleakly, under the morning sunlight,--its myriadspreading branches and twigs long since killed by the tons ofparasitical gray moss which festooned its every inch ofsurface with long trailing masses of dead fluff.

  Not idly had Brice studied that weird tree and itsposition. Now, standing beneath its black shade, he drewforth a matchbox he had taken from the smoking table afterdinner.

  Cautiously striking a match and shielding it in his cuppedpalms, he applied the bit of fire to the lowest hanging sprayof the avalanche of dead gray moss.

  A month of bone-dry weather had helped to make his action asuccess. The moss ignited at first touch of the match. Upalong the festoon shot a tongue of red flame. The nearestadjoining branch's burden of moss caught the fiery breath andburst into blaze.

  With lightning speed, the fire roared upward, the branches toeither side blazing as the outsputtering flames kissed them.

  In a little more than a breath, the gigantic tree was aroaring sheet of red-and-gold-fire, a ninety-foot torch whichsent its flood of lurid light to the skies above and made theearth for a radius of two hundred yards as bright as day.

  Far out to sea that swirling tower of scarlet flame hurled itsillumination. For miles on every hand it could be seen. Thesound of its crackle and hiss and roar was deafening. Thetwigs, dry and dead, caught fire from the surrounding blaze ofmoss, and communicated their flame to the thicker branches andto the tree's towering summit.

  And thus the fierce vividness of blazing wood was added to thelighter glare of the inflammable moss.

  The spectacle was incredibly beautiful, but still more awesomeand terrifying. The crackle and snap of burning wood brokeforth on the night air like the purr of fifty machine guns.

  But Gavin Brice had not waited to gaze on what was perhaps themost marvelous display of pyrotechnics ever beheld on theFlorida coast. At first touch of flame to the first festoonof moss, he had taken to his heels.

  Claire Standish gazed in unbelieving horror at the seeminglypanic flight of the man who had so strangely dominated herlife and her brother's, during these past few hours. He hadfaced death at Rodney Hade's pistol, he had been lazily calmat the possibility of a rush from the Caesars. He had shownhimself fearless, amusedly contemptuous of danger. Yet herehe was fleeing for his very life and leaving the Standishes atthe mercy of the merciless!

  More,--unless she had deceived herself, grossly, Claire hadseen in his eyes the lovelight that all his assumption ofindifference had not been able to quench. She had surprisedit there, not once but a score of times. And it had thrilledher, unaccountably. Yet, in spite of that, he was desertingher in her moment of direst peril!

  Then, through her soul surged the gloriously, divinely,illogical Faith that is the God-given heritage of the womanwho loves. And all at once she knew this man had not desertedher, that right blithely he would lay down his life for her.That, somehow or other, he had acted for her good. And afeeling of calm exultation filled her.

  Hade stood in the doorway, barking sharp commands to severalof his men, calling to them by name. And at each call,
theyobeyed, like dogs at their master's bidding. They dashed offthe veranda, in varying directions, at a lurching run, inbelated pursuit of the fleeing Brice.

  Then, for the first time, Hade faced about and confronted theunflinching girl and Standish who had lumbered dazedly out ofthe library and who stood blinking at Claire's side.

  Lifting his yachting cap, with exaggerated courtesy, Hadebowed to them. The eternal smile on his face was intensified,as he glanced from one to the other of the pair.

  "Well," he said, and his black eyes strayed as if by accidentto Claire's face, "our heroic friend seems to have crackedunder the strain, eh? Cut and ran, like a rabbit. Frankly,my dear Milo, you'd do better to put your reliance on me. Aman who will run away,--with a woman looking on, too--andleaving you both in the lurch, after promising to--"

  There was a clatter on the veranda, and Roke's enormous bulkshouldered its way through what was left of the group ofsailors, his roustabout costume at ugly variance with theirneat attire.

  "Did you find him?" demanded Hade, turning at the sound.

  "No!" panted Roke, in keen excitement. "But we'd better clearout, Boss! All Dade County's liable to be here in anotherfive minutes. The old Ghost Tree's on fire. Listen! You canhear--"

  He finished his staccato speech by lifting his hand forsilence. And, in the instant's hush could be heard thedistant roar of a million flames.

  "He didn't desert us!" cried the girl, in ecstatic triumph."I knew he didn't! I knew it! He--"

  But Hade did not stop to hear her. At a bound he reached theveranda and was on the lawn below, running around the side ofthe house with his men trailing at his heels.

  Out in the open, he halted, staring aghast at the column offire that soared heavenward and filled the night with luridbrightness. Back to him, one by one, came the four sailors hehad sent in pursuit of Gavin. And, for a space, all stoodgazing in silence at the awesome spectacle.

  Roke broke the spell by tugging at Hade's coat, and urgingeagerly:

  "Best get out, at the double-quick, Boss! This blaze is dueto bring folks a-runnin', an'--!"

  "Well?" inquired Hade, impatiently. "What then? They'll findus looking at a burning tree. Is there any law against that?I brought you and the crew ashore, to-night, to help shiftsome heavy furniture that came from up North last week. Onthe way, we saw this tree and stopped to look at it. Where'sthe crime in that? You talk like a--"

  "But if the Standishes blab--"

  "They won't. That Secret Service sneak has bolted. Withouthim to put backbone in them, they'll eat out of my hand.Don't worry. They--"

  "Here comes some of the folks, now," muttered Roke, as runningfigures began to appear from three sides. "We'd be safer to--"

  His warning ended in a gurgle of dismay.

  From three points the twenty-five or thirty new arrivalscontinued to run forward. But, at a word from some one infront of them, they changed their direction, and wheeled intriple column, almost with the precision of soldiers.

  The shift of direction brought them converging, not upon thetree, but upon the group of sailors that stood around Hade.It was this odd change of course which had stricken Roke dumb.

  And now he saw these oncomers were not farmhands or white-cladneighbors, and that there were no women among them. They weremen in dark clothes, they were stalwart of build anddetermined of aspect.. There was a certain confident teamworkand air of professionalism about them that did not please Rokeat all. Again, he caught at his master's arm. But he was toolate.

  Out of nothingness, apparently, darted a small figure,directly behind the unsuspecting Hade. It was as though hehad risen from the earth itself.

  With lightning swiftness, he attached himself to Rodney'sthroat and right arm, from behind. Hade gave a convulsivestart, and, with his free hand reached back for his pistol.At the same time Roke seized the dwarfish stranger.

  Then, two things happened, at once.

  Roke wallowed backward, faint with pain and with one leg numbto the thigh, from an adroit smiting of his instep. Thelittle assailant's heel had come down with trained force onthis nerve center. And, for the moment, Roke was not only inagony but powerless.

  The second thing to happen was a deft twist from theimprisoning arm that was wrapped around Hade's throat frombehind. At the pressure, Rodney's groping hand fell away fromhis pistol pocket, and he himself toppled, powerless, towardthe ground, the skilled wrench of the carotid artery and thenerves at the side of the throat paralyzing him with pain.

  Roke, rolling impotently on the earth, saw the little fellowswing Hade easily over his shoulder and start for the house.At the same time, he noted through his semi-delirium of agonythat the stalwart men had borne down upon the knot of gapingsailors, and, at pistol-muzzle, had disarmed and handcuffedthem.

  It was all over in less than, fifteen seconds. But not beforeRoke's beach combing wits could come to the aid of histortured body. Doubling himself into a muscular ball, herolled swiftly under the shadow of a sprawling magnoliasapling, crouching among the vine roots which surround it.There, unobserved, he lay, hugging the dark ground asscientifically as any Seminole, and moving not an eyelash.

  From that point of vantage, he saw the dark-clothed men lineup their sullen prisoners and march them off to the road,where, a furlong below, the fire revealed the dim outlines ofseveral motor cars. Other men, at the direction of the sameleader who had commanded the advance, trooped toward thehouse. And, as this leader passed near the magnolia, Rokeknew him for Gavin Brice.

  From the edge of the veranda, Claire and Standish hadwitnessed the odd drama. Wordless, stricken dumb withamazement, they gazed upon the fire-illumined scene. Then,toiling across the grass toward them came the little man whohad overcome Rodney Hade. On his shoulders, as unconcernedlyas if he were bearing a light sack, he carried the inert bodyof his victim. Straight past the staring brother and sisterhe went, and around the house to the front steps.

  Milo started to follow. But Claire pointed toward a clump ofmen who were coming along not far behind the little burden-bearer.At their head, hurried some one whose figure was silhouettedagainst the waning tree-glare. And both the watchers recognizedhim.

  Nearing the veranda, Brice spoke a few words to the men withhim. They scattered, surrounding the house. Gavin came onalone. Seeing the man and girl above him, he put his hands upto the rail and vaulted lightly over it, landing on the floorbeside them.

  "Come!" he said, briefly, leading the way around the porch tothe front door.

  They followed, reaching the hallway just in time to see thelittle man deposit his burden on the couch. And both of themcried-out in astonishment. For the stripling who had reducedRodney Hade to numb paralysis was Sato, their own recreantJapanese butler.

  At sight of them, he straightened himself up from the couchand bowed. Then, in flawless English,--fardifferent from the pigeon-talk he had always used for theirbenefit,--he said respectfully, to Gavin:

  "I brought him here, as you said, sir. He's coming around,all right. After the pressure is off the carotid, numbnessdoesn't last more than two minutes."

  "Sato!" gasped Claire, unbelieving, while Milo gurgled,wordless. The erstwhile butler turned back to the slowlyrecovering Hade. Brice laughed at their crass astonishment.

  "This is one of the best men in the Service," he explained."It was he who took a job under Hade and who got hold of thatraised check. Hade passed him on to you, to spy for him.He--"

  "But," blithered Standish, "I saw him tackle Hade, before allthe crew. He was playing with death. Yet, when you tackledhim, this evening, he was scared helpless."

  "He was 'scared' into coming into the room and asking inJapanese for my orders," rejoined Brice. "I gave the orders,when you thought I was airing my Jap knowledge by bawling himout. I told him to collect the men we'd posted, to phone forothers, and to watch for the signal of the burning tree. Ifthe Caesars weren't going to attack in force, I saw no need infilling the house with Sec
ret Service agents. But if theyshould attack, I knew I could slip out, as far as that tree,without their catching me. When Hade's tea-party arrived,instead, I gave the signal. It was Sato who got my messageacross to the key, this morning, too. As for my pitching himout of here, this evening,--well, it was he who taught me allI know of jiu-jutsu. He used to be champion of Nagasaki. Ifhe'd chosen to resist, he could have broken my neck in fiveseconds. Sato is a wonder at the game."

  The Jap grinned expansively at the praise. Then he glanced atHade and reported:

  "He's getting back his powers of motion, sir. He'll be allright in another half-minute."

  Rodney Hade sat up, with galvanic suddenness, rubbing hismisused throat and darting a swift snakelike glance about him.His eye fell on the three men between him and the door. Then,at each of the two hallway windows, he saw other men posted,on the veranda. And he understood the stark helplessness ofhis situation. Once more the masklike smile settled on hispallid face.

  "Mr. Hade," said Brice, "for the second time this evening, Ibeg to tell you you are my prisoner. So are your crew. Thehouse is surrounded. Not by Caesars, this time, but bytrained Secret Service men. I warn you against trying anycharlatan tricks on them. They are apt to be hasty on thetrigger, and they have orders to shoot if--"

  "My dear Brice," expostulated Hade, a trifle wearily, "if wewere playing poker, and you held four aces to my twodeuces--would you waste breath in explaining to me that I washopelessly beaten? I'm no fool. I gather that you've marchedmy men off to jail. May I ask why you made an exception ofme? Why did you bring me back here?"

  "Can't you imagine?" asked Brice. "You say you're no fool.Prove it. Prove it by--"

  "By telling you where I have cached as much of the silver aswe've jettisoned thus far?" supplemented Hade. "Of course,the heroic Standish will show you where the Caesar cache is,down there in the inlet. But I am the only man who knowswhere the three-quarter million or more dollars alreadysalvaged, are salted down. And you brought me here to argueme into telling? May I ask what inducements you offer?"

  "Certainly," said Gavin, without a moment's hesitation."Though I wonder you have not guessed them."

  "Lighter sentence, naturally," suggested Hade. "But is thatall? Surely it's a piker price for Uncle Sam to pay for agift of nearly a million dollars. Can't you better it?"

  "I am not the court," returned Brice, nettled. "But I think Ican promise you a fifty per cent reduction in what would bethe average sentence for such an offense, and a lighter job inprison than falls to the lot of most Federal criminals."

  "Good," approved Hade, adding: "But not good enough. I'mstill in the thirties. I'm tougher of constitution than Ilook. They can't sentence me for more than a span of years.And when my term is up, I can enjoy the little batch of 1804dollars I've laid by. I think I'll take my chance, unless youcare to raise the ante."

  Brice glanced around at the men who stood on the veranda.Then he lowered his voice, so as not to be heard by them.

  "You are under courtmartial sentence of death as a spy, Mr.Hade," he whispered. "The war is over. That sentence won'tbe imposed, in full, I imagine, in times of peace. But yourwar record will earn you an extra sentence that will comeclose to keeping you in Atlanta Penitentiary for life. Ibelieve I am the only member of the Department who knows thatMajor Heidenhoff of the Wilhelmstrasse and Rodney Hade are thesame man. If I can be persuaded to keep that knowledge frommy superiors, in return for full information as to where the1804 dollars are cached--those you've already taken from theinlet--and if the mortgage papers on this place aredestroyed--well--?"

  "H'm!" mused Hade, his black eyes brooding and speculative."H'm! That calls for a bit of rather careful weighing. Howmuch time will you give me to think it over and decide? Aweek?"

  "Just half an hour," retorted Gavin. "My other men, who tookyour silly band of cutthroats to jail, ought to be back bythen. I am waiting here till they report, and no longer. Youhave half an hour. And I advise you to make sane use of it."

  Hade got slowly to his feet. The smile was gone from hislips. His strange black eyes looked indescribably tired andold. There was a sag to his alert figure.

  "It's hard to plan a coup like mine," he sighed, "and then tobe bilked by a man with not one-tenth my brain. Luck was withyou. Blind luck. Don't imagine you've done this by yourwits."

  As he spoke he shuffled heavily to the adjoining music-room, andlet his dreary gaze stray toward its two windows. On the veranda,framed in the newly unshuttered window-space, stood four SecretService men, grimly on guard.

  Hade strode to one window after the other, with the crankymien and action of a thwarted child, and slammed the shutterstogether, barring out the sinister sight of his guards. Gavindid not try to prevent him from this act of boyish spite. Themaster-mind's reaction, in its hour of brokenness, roused hispity.

  From the windows, Hade's gloomy eyes strayed to the piano. Onit lay a violin case. He picked it up and took out anage-mellowed violin.

  "I think clearer when I play," he said, glumly, to Brice."And I've nearly a million dollars' worth of thinking to do inthis half hour. Is it forbidden to fiddle? Milo's fatherpaid $4,000 for this violin. It's a genuine Strad. And itgives me peace and clear vision. May I play, or--?"

  "Go ahead, if you want to," vouchsafed Gavin, fancying he readthe attempt of a charlatan to remain picturesque to the end."Only get your thinking done, and come to a decision beforethe half hour is up. And, by the way, let me warn you againthat those men out there have orders to shoot, if you make amove to escape."

  "No use in asking you to play my accompaniments, Claire?"asked Hade, in pathetic attempt at gayety as he walked to thehallway door. "No? I'm sorry. Nobody else ever played themas you do."

  He tried to smile. The effort was a failure. He yanked thecurtains shut that hung between music room and hall. Then,at a gesture from Gavin, he pulled them halfway open again, and,standing in the doorway, drew his bow across the strings.

  Gavin sat down on the long hall couch, a yard outside themusic-room door, beside Claire and the still stupefied Milo.The Jap took up his position back of them, alert and tense asa fox terrier. The three Secret Service men in the frontdoorway stood at attention, yet evidently wondering at theprisoner's queer freak.

  From under the deftly wielded bow, the violin wailed forthinto stray chords and phrases, wild, unearthly, discordant.Hade, his face bent over the instrument, swayed in time withits undisciplined rhythm.

  Then, from dissonance and incoherence, the music merged intoGounod's Ave Maria. And, from swaying, Hade began to walk.To and fro, urged by the melody, his feet strayed. Now he wasin full view, between the half-open curtains. Now, he washidden for an instant, and then he was crossing once morebefore the opening.

  His playing was exquisite. More--it was authoritative,masterly, soaring. It gripped the hearers' senses andheartstrings. The beauty and dreaminess of the Ave Mariaflooded the air with loveliness. Brice listened, enthralled.Down Claire's cheek rolled a teardrop, of whose existence shewas not even aware.

  The last notes of the melody throbbed away. Brice drew a longbreath. Then, at once the violin spoke again. And now it sangforth into the night, in the Schubert Serenade,--gloriously sweet,a surge of passionate tenderness.

  Back and forth, under the spell of his own music, wanderedHade. Then he stopped. Gavin leaned forward. He saw thatHade was leaning against the piano, as he played. His headwas bowed over the instrument as though in reverence. Hisblack eyes were dreamy and exalted. Gavin sat back on thecouch and once more gave himself over to the mysticenthrallment of the music. The Serenade wailed itself intosilence with one last hushedly exquisite tone. Brice drew along breath, as of a man coming out of a trance.

  Simon Cameron had jumped into Claire's lap. But, receiving noattention from the music-rapt girl, the cat now dropped to thefloor, and started toward the stairs.

  At the same time, the violin sounded anew. And Gav
in frownedin disappointment. For, no longer was it singing its heartout in the magic of an immortal melody. Instead, it swunginto the once-popular strains of "Oh, Promise Me!"

  And now it seemed as though Hade were wantonly making fun ofhis earlier beautiful playing and of the effect he must haveknown it had had upon his hearers. For he played heavily,monotonously, more like a dance-hall soloist than a master.And, as though his choice of an air were not sharp enoughcontrast to his other selections, he strummed amateurishly andwithout a shred of technique or of feeling.

  Jarring as was the result upon Brice, it seemed evenmore so on Simon Cameron. The cat had stopped in his progresstoward the stairs, and now stared round-eyed at the music-roomdoorway, his absurd little nostrils sniffing the air. Then,deliberately, Simon Cameron walked to the doorway and sat downthere, his huge furry tail curled around round him, staringwith idiotic intentness at the player.

  Gavin noted the cat's odd behavior. Simon Cameron was far toofamiliar with Hade's presence in the house to give Rodney asecond glance. Indeed, he had only jumped up into Claire'slap, because the fascinatingly new Secret Service men at thefront door smelt strongly of tobacco,--the smell a Persian cathates above all others. But now, he was gazing in delightedinterest at the violinist.

  At the sight, a wild conjecture flashed into Gavin's brain.With a sharp order to the Jap, he sprang up and rushed intothe music room.

  Leaning against the piano, playing the rebellious violin, was--Roke!

  Rodney Hade had vanished.

  The windows were still shuttered. No other door gave exitfrom the music room. There were no hangings, except thedoor-curtains, and there was no furniture behind which a childcould hide unseen. Yet Hade was no longer there.

  Roke laid aside his violin, at sight of Gavin and the Jap. Atthe former's exclamation of amaze, two more of the SecretService men left their post at the front door and ran in. Thetramp of their hurrying feet made the guards outside the openwindows of the music room fling wide the closed shutters.Clearly, Hade had not escaped past them.

  Folding his arms, and grinning impudently at the astoundedcordon of faces, Roke drawled:

  "I just dropped in to say 'Howdy' to Mr. Standish. Nobody wasaround. So I made bold to pick up the fiddle and have alittle spiel. I ain't done any harm, and there's nothingyou-all can hold me on."

  For ten seconds nobody answered. Nobody spoke or moved.Then, Gavin Brice's face went crimson with sudden fury at hisown outwitting. He recalled the musical afternoon atRoustabout Key which his presence had interrupted, and Roke'sfanatical devotion to Hade.

  "I begin to understand," he said, his voice muffled in anattempt to subdue his anger. "You and Hade were fond of theviolin, eh? And for some reason or other you long ago workedup a series of signals on it, as the mind-reader with theguitar-accompanist used to do in the vaudeville shows. Thosediscordant phrases he started off with were your signal tocome to the rescue. And you came. But how did you come? Andhow did he go? Both by the same way, of course. But--thereisn't even a chimney-piece in the room."

  Once more, Roke grinned broadly. "I ain't seen hide nor hairof Mr. Hade, not since this afternoon," said he. "I beenspendin' the evenin' over to Landon's. Landon is a tryin' tosell me his farm. Says the soil on it is so rich that heships carloads of it up North, to use for fertilizer. Says--"

  "Sato!" broke in Brice. "Can you make him talk? MissStandish, will you please go somewhere else for five minutes?This is not going to be a pretty sight."

  As the girl turned, obediently yet reluctantly, from the room,the Jap, with a smile of perfect bliss on his yellow face,advanced toward Roke.

  The big man wheeled, contemptuously, upon him. Sato sprang athim. With a hammerlike fist, Roke smote at the oncomingpigmy. The arm struck, to its full length. But it did notreach its mark, nor return to the striker's side. By aqueerly crablike shift of his wiry body, the Jap had eludedthe blow, and had fastened upon the arm, above the elbow andat the wrist.

  A cross-pull wrench of the Jap's body brought a howl of painfrom Roke and sent him floundering helplessly to his knees,while the merest leverage pressure from his conqueror held himthere. But the Jap was doing more. The giant's arm wasbending backward and sideways at an impossible angle. Norcould its owner make a move to avert the growing unbearabletorture. It was one of the simplest, yet one of the mosteffective and agonizing, holds in all jiujutsu.

  Thirty seconds of it, and Roke's bull-like endurance went topieces under the strain. Raucously and blubberingly hescreeched for mercy. The Jap continued happily to exert thecross-pull pressure.

  "Will you speak up?" queried Brice, sickened at the sight, butsteeling himself with the knowledge of the captive's crimesand of the vast amount at stake.

  Roke rolled his eyes horribly, grinding his yellowed teethtogether to check his own cries. Then, sobbingly, he blurted:

  "Yes! Lemme loose!"

  "Not till you tell," refused Gavin. "Quick, now!"

  "Second panel from left-hand window," moaned the stricken andanguished Roke. "Push beading up and then to right. He's--he'ssafe away, by now, anyway," he blubbered, in self-justificationof the confession which agony had wrung from him. "All you'llget is the--the--"

  And, the pain having eaten into his very brain, he yelledincoherently.

  Ten minutes later, Milo Standish sought out his sister, in theupper room whither she had fled, in fear, to escape from theracket of Roke's outcries.

  "Listen!" he jabbered boyishly, in utter excitement. "Bricemade him tell how Rodney got out! How d'you s'pose? One ofthe old panels, in the music room, slides back, and there's aflight of stone steps down to a cellar that's right alongsideour regular cellar, with only a six inch cement-and-lath wallbetween. It leads out, to the tunnel. Right at that turnwhere the old-time shoring is. The shoring hides a littledoor. And we never dared move the props because we thought itheld up the tunnel-roof. It's all part of the oldIndian-shelter stunts that this house's builders were so daftabout, a hundred years ago. Hade must have blundered on it orstudied it out, one of those times when he used to go pokingaround in the tunnel, all by himself. And--"

  "Did Mr. Brice find him?" interposed Claire.

  "Not he!" said Milo, less buoyantly. "Rodney had a good tenminutes start of us. And with a start like that, they'll neverlay hands on him again. He's got too much cleverness and heknows too many good hiding places. But Brice found the next bestthing. You'd never guess! Rodney's secret cache for the treasurewas that walled-up cellar. It's half full of canvas bags. Rightunder our feet, mind you, and we never knew a thing about it. Isupposed he was shipping it North in some way. Roke says thatRodney kept it there because, when he got it all, he was going toforeclose and kick us out, and then dispose of it at his leisure.The swine!"

  "Oh!"

  "The crypt seems to have been a part of our own cellar till itwas walled off. It--"

  "But how in the world did Roke?"

  "He was with the crew. Rodney and he went together to theyacht for them. The Secret Service men didn't get him, in theround-up. He crept as close to the house as he dared. And heheard Rodney sounding the signal alphabet they had worked up,on the violin. He got into the tunnel and so to the cellar,and then sneaked up, and took Rodney's place at fiddling. Heseems to have been as willing to sacrifice himself for hismaster as any dog would have been. Or else he counted onBrice's not having any evidence to hold him on.

  "By the way, do you remember that conch, Davy, over atRoustabout Key? Brice says he's a Secret Service man. He andBrice used to fish together, off the keys, when they wereboys. Davy volunteered for the war. And Brice made good useof him, over there, and got him into the Secret Service whenthey came back. It's all so queer--so--!"

  "Is Mr. Brice still downstairs?" interrupted Claire, her eyesstraying involuntarily toward the door of the room.

  "No. He had to go. He left his good-byes for you. His workhere is done. And he has to start for Washin
gton on the 2A.M. train from Miami. By the way, the best part of it allis that he says a fugitive from justice can't bring legalproceedings in a civil court. So Rodney can never forecloseon us or take up those notes of mine. Lord, but that chap,Brice, is a wonder!"

  Vital as was the news about the notes and the mortgage, Clairescarce heard it. In, her ears, and through the brain andheart of her, rang drearily the words:

  "He had to go. He left his good-byes for you. His work hereis done."

  His work was done! Yes. But was that to be all? Had thelight in his eyes and the vibrant tremor in his voice as hetalked with her--had these been part of his "work," too? Wasit all to end, like this,--and before it had begun?

  To her own surprise and to her brother's greater astonishment,the usually self-contained Claire Standish burst into atempest of weeping.

  "Poor, poor little girl!" soothed Milo. "It's all been toomuch for you! No one could have stood up under such a strain.I'll tell you what we're going to do: We're going to Miami,for a week or two, and have a jolly time and make you try toforget all this mystery and excitement. We'll go to-morrowmorning, if you say so."

  The Miami season was at its climax. The half-moon drivewayoutside the front entrance to the Royal Palm Hotel was crowdedthick with waiting motor cars, whose occupants were at thehotel's semi-weekly dance. On the brightlit front veranda menin white and in dinner-clothes and women in every hue ofevening dress were passing to and fro. Elderly folk, sittingin deep porch chairs, watched through the long windows thegayly-moving dancers in the ballroom. Out through wide-opendoors and windows pulsed the rhythmic music.

  Above hung the great white stars in the blue-black Southernskies. The bay stretched glimmering and phosphorescent awayfrom the palm-girt hotel gardens. The trade-winds set themyriad dry palm-fronds to rustling like the downpour of summerrain.

  Up the steps from the gardens drifted promenaders and dancers,in groups or in twos and threes. Then, up the stairway moveda slender, white-clad figure, alone.

  Claire Standish had sought to do as her brother had wished,and to forget, in the carefree life of the White City, thehappenings she had been through. Dutifully she had come toMiami with him. Dutifully, for the past three days, she hadjoined him in such gayeties as he had suggested. Dutifully,to-night, she had come with him to this dance. And all thetime her heart had been as heavy as lead.

  Now, getting rid of her partner on some pretext, she had goneout into the softly illumined gardens to be alone with theyearning and heartache she could not shake off. Then, fearinglest Milo, or some other of the men she knew, might come insearch of her and wonder at her desire to mope alone under thestars, she had turned back to the hotel.

  As she mounted the last stair to the veranda, a man in dinnerclothes stepped forward from one of the porch's great whitepillars, and advanced to meet her.

  "There's a corner table at the Cafe de la Paix, in Paris," hegreeted her, striving to control his voice and to speaklightly, "that every one on earth must pass by, sooner orlater. The front veranda of the Royal Palm is like that.Soon or late, everybody crosses it. When I got back thisafternoon, I heard you had left home and that you weresomewhere in Miami. I couldn't find you. So I came here--andwaited."

  Claire had halted, at first sound of Gavin Brice's pleasantlyslow voice, and she stood facing him, wide-eyed and pale, herbreath failing.

  "I had to go to Washington to make my report," said he,speaking low and fast. "I came back to you by the first trainI could catch. Didn't you know I would?"

  "Yes," she breathed, her gaze still lost in his. "Yes. I--Iknew."

  And now she realized she had known, even while she had toldherself she would never see him again.

  "Come!" he said, gently, holding out his hand to her.

  Unashamed, under the battery of a hundred curious eyes, sheclasped the proffered hand. And, together, they turned backtoward the sheltering dimness of the gardens.

  THE END