Lord John in New York, Page 3

  EPISODE III

  THE GIRL ON THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR

  When Teano first spoke to me of his sister, nothing was further from mythoughts than a meeting with the telephone girl at the Priscilla Alden,a hotel sacred to ladies. But unexpected things happen in the bestregulated lives, especially in New York, as anyone may learn by theSunday papers. Not many days after the gate of the Sisterhood Houseshut for the second time between Maida and me, I changed my residencefrom New York to a hotel about five miles from Pine Cliff. Roger Odelland Roger's bride had gone to South America on one of those businesstrips which financiers seem to take as nonchalantly as we cross astreet. His last words to me were: "You know, I rely on you to lookafter Maida, as well as she can be looked after, under that brute of awoman's thumb."

  I did the best I could; but whether my wounds or my love sickness wereto blame, the fact was that something had made me a bundle of rawnerves.

  I slept badly, and my dreams were of some hideous thing happening toMaida; or else of the mummy-case being stolen. In my waking hours Ichased back and forth between town and country, trying to find in NewYork the "Egyptian-looking man" who had disturbed Maida's peace ofmind, and who had reasons for wishing me to forget the number of hisautomobile: trying to make sure on Long Island if a connection existedbetween this man and the head of the Sisterhood.

  At last I realised that I was in no fit state of nerves for a guardian.The hotel people recommended me to a celebrated doctor practising onLong Island; and one morning, ashamed of myself as a "molly-coddle," Iwent to keep an appointment with him. Thorne was his name and he livedin a grey-shingled house set back from the road behind a small lawn.The place was outside the village; but since abandoning my crutch, Ihad begun to take as much exercise as possible. I walked, therefore,to the doctor's, rather than use the car presented to me by Roger.This seems a small detail to note, but deductions following certainevents proved it to have been important.

  I was received by the keen-eyed Thorne, in his private office, andduring the catechism to which he subjected me, I thought nothing ofwhat went on in the outer room through which I had passed. I shouldill have earned Roger Odell's nickname ("the gilded amateurdetective"), however, if I hadn't ferreted it out afterwards and "puttwo and two together."

  It was an ordinary room, with a desk at which sat a young woman whoanswered the door and kept the doctor's appointments classified. I wasvaguely aware that I had interrupted her business of stamping letters,which a boy would post. She had not finished when a few minutes laterthe next patient arrived. This person gave his name as Mr. Genardius,and confessed that he had no appointment; but his face--covered withbandages--presented such a pitiful appearance that the girl agreed tolet him wait. "When the gentleman who's in the office now goes away,"she explained, "the doctor's hour for receiving is over. But he maygive you a few minutes."

  "Isn't the gentleman an English officer, Lord John Hasle?" inquired thewould-be patient, whose face as seen under a wide-brimmed,old-fashioned felt hat, and between linen wrappings, consisted ofdeep-set black eyes, wide nostrils, and a long-lipped mouth.

  "Why, yes, he is," admitted the young woman, to whom I had given myname. "Do you know him?"

  "Not at all," replied Mr. Genardius, who appeared to her a ratherunusual figure in his quaint hat and an equally quaint overcoat. "Butas I got out of my automobile I saw him at the gate. I recognised himfrom portraits in newspapers. He was an army aviator, I believe, whogot leave on account of wounds, and came over to see a play produced."

  "Oh, yes, _The Key_--a _lovely_ detective play," was the flatteringreply, as reported to me later.

  As she spoke, the young woman (Miss Murphy) gave the letters to theboy, who went out, needing no directions. Hardly had the door shut,when Mr. Genardius rose. "Oh, that reminds me!" he exclaimed, "Ishould have wired to a friend! The doctor is sure to be engaged forsome moments. I'll step out and send my chauffeur with the telegram."For an invalid, he walked briskly. The boy hadn't disposed of hisletters and parcels, or mounted the bicycle which leaned against thefence, when Mr. Genardius reached the gate. Miss Murphy glanced fromthe window, interested in the queer personage. She was unable to seethe motor from where she sat; but it must have been near, for the blackfelt hat and the black caped coat came flapping up the garden pathagain in less than five minutes. The thought flitted through MissMurphy's head that the bandages worn by the invalid wouldn't make a baddisguise. Mr. Genardius returned to his chair, and selected anewspaper.

  About this time came a telephone call, which Miss Murphy answered. Andthough two days had passed before I realised the need of questioningthe young woman, she was able to recall a rustle as of tearing paper atthis moment. Her attention was occupied at the 'phone; but whenGenardius had departed, and she wished to glance at the theatricaladvertisements, she noticed that a page was gone from _The World_. Hadshe not remembered the name of the paper, a link would have beenmissing from the chain of evidence. As it was, I was able to deducethat the torn page contained a news item "exclusive to _The World_."Mr. Genardius had doubtless read some other newspaper at home, and ithad interested him that "Millionaire Roger Odell's Egyptian Present forHis Bride" was likely to reach New York that night on an Italian liner.

  How _The World_ had got hold of this story remains a mystery. It hadleaked out that Roger had bought for a great sum an opal "Eye ofHorus," supposed to be the mate of a curious ornament possessed by hisadopted sister, and the only other jewel resembling it, in existence.Grace Odell (nee Grace Callender) had admired Maida's fetish. That wasenough for Roger. He made inquiries, and learned from a firm ofjewellers that a duplicate of Miss Odell's opal had been sold years agoby a certain Sir Anthony Annesley to the Museum of Cairo.

  How it had come into Annesley's hands was not known; and he had longago died. Maida had been satisfied with her fetish, and did not covetits fellow, but Grace's chance word caused Roger to cable an agent inEgypt, and, after bargaining, the Museum authorities had consented topart with the treasure. This information the newspapers had obtained,but the time and the way of the opal's arrival in America had, Rogerthought, been kept a dead secret.

  In order that jewel-thieves, ever on the alert for a prize, should notstalk the messenger, Roger's agent had engaged the services of aprivate person. A relative of his, an American girl who had acted asstenographer in Naples, was giving up her position to return to NewYork. Taking advantage of this fact, and his confidence in her, theagent had given Miss Mary Gibson charge of the Eye of Horus. Having noconnection with any jewel firm it was believed that she might passunsuspected. The curio being thousands of years old, was not subjectto duty, and could, it was hoped, be placed by Miss Gibson directly inthe hands of its owner, before anyone discovered that it had been inhers. Roger Odell had intended to meet the young woman; but hissuddenly arranged journey upset that plan, and the day before my visitto Dr. Thorne I had received the following cable:

  "Stenographer will go straight from ship to Priscilla Alden. If shiplate, meet her there early morning after. Will be expecting you."

  Had I not come to an understanding with Roger before he sailed for RioJaneiro, this message would have been gibberish. But he had asked meto take over the jewel because he hoped thus to bring me into touchwith Maida. If I could bestow the opal in Roger's bank, Miss Odell(whose vows did not bind her to absolute seclusion) might run up to NewYork and compare it with her own curio. I had caught eagerly at theplan. Gladly would I have waited hours on the dock for Miss Gibson,but fearing I might be suspected as his agent, if thieves were on thewatch, Roger had thought it best for the young woman not to be met. Inorder to avoid attention, she was to proceed as if she had been theinsignificant stranger she was supposed to be. She was to inquire onshipboard for an hotel in New York, taking lady guests only. ThePriscilla Alden would be mentioned, and she would send a wireless,engaging a room. As clients of the Priscilla Alden were allowed nomale visitors after ten p.m., my call would have t
o depend upon thetime the ship docked. Even before Roger's cable, I had ascertainedthat the _Reina Elenora_ was likely to get in late, and I made up mymind to spend the night at my own old hotel in New York. That wouldenable me to present myself early next day at the Priscilla Alden.

  While I described my nightmare dreams to the doctor (keeping Maida'sname to myself), Miss Murphy left Mr. Genardius for a few moments. Arich old lady patient drew up at the gate in an automobile and sent herchauffeur to fetch the young woman. There was a verbal message to bedelivered, and while Miss Murphy committed it to heart, doubtless thebandaged man listened at the keyhole. He heard enough to realise thatJohn Hasle was close upon the trail of Miss Odell's enemies.

  Thorne was sympathetic. He talked of nerve-shock in various forms,from which most returning soldiers suffered.

  As he fumbled among medicine bottles he went on: "I'll prescribe you atonic; I keep a few things at hand here, and I can fix you up from mystock. Some of the ingredients are rare. You couldn't get aprescription made up nearer than New York. No, by George! there's onething missing from my lot! Luckily it's not one of the rare ones. Didyou come in a car? What, you walked? Well, I'll get the boy to sprintinto the village on his bike, to the pharmacy. He can be back insidefifteen minutes. I'll write to the druggist."

  Thorne touched an electric button. No one came in response.Impatiently the doctor flung the door open to glare at Miss Murphy.Miss Murphy was not visible, however, and away dashed the master of thehouse, leaving me in his private office to wonder at his absence. Thisoffice being behind the outer room gave no view of the front gate,therefore I could not see what Thorne saw. It wasn't until he appearedthat I learned why he had bolted. The boy whom he had intended to sendfor the missing ingredients had been run down by a motor-car, whilebicycling to the post-office. The chauffeur had, through coincidence,been despatched by a patient waiting for Thorne. He had taken a cornertoo sharply, and knocked the boy off his bicycle, but Joey was morefrightened than hurt. He had been picked up by the chauffeur, aforeigner, and when Thorne had looked from the window, it had been tosee the lad lifted half conscious from the returning car. At the gatestood not only Miss Murphy, but the owner of the automobile, who hadhurried out on hearing the young woman's cry. So it was that thewaiting-room had been left empty.

  "Joey's as right as rain now, or will be when he's pulled himselftogether," Thorne explained. "My new patient, whoever he is--astranger to me--seemed to feel worse than Joey. He gave the kid tendollars! It may have been as much the boy's fault as the chauffeur's.Anyhow, I bet Joey won't complain. Your medicine will be ready as soonas if nothing had happened, for the owner of the auto (Genardius, hisname is) offered to drive to the druggist's and back."

  It was Miss Murphy who presently handed the doctor a small, neatlywrapped bottle. "That chauffeur brought me this," she announced. "Itseems that Joey's accident upset the invalid gentleman more than herealised at first. He was taken faint at the pharmacy, and decided notto consult you this morning. He'll 'phone, and ask for an appointment."

  Dr. Thorne tore the wrapper off the phial, and began pouring itscolourless contents into a bottle already two-thirds full, which he hadprepared. Suddenly he stopped. "I guess I'll let that do for thistime! Take a tablespoonful when you get home, and twice more duringthe day; once just before bed."

  Dr. Thorne inspired me with confidence; and, as I was anxious to keepmy wits for Maida's sake, I intended to follow directions. Arriving atmy hotel, however, I found a cablegram in answer to one I'd sentHaslemere, in London. I had demanded whence came the scandal whichdarkened the life of Maida Odell. Replying, he refused details, butdeigned to admit that his informant was an American, the widow of anaval officer, of "unimpeachable respectability." That word"unimpeachable" was so characteristic of Haslemere that I laughed, butthe description answered closely enough to Mrs. Granville to excite me,and I forgot the medicine.

  Later, I had remembered it once more when Teano called, bringing thedumb child Nicky, now his adopted son. I set down the bottle andthought no more about it, for I hoped to learn something of the man whohad frightened Maida. My hope that Nicky might turn informant seemed,however, doomed to disappointment. It was difficult to elicit facts,because of his dumbness; but Teano and I agreed that the imp tookadvantage of his infirmity to bottle up secrets. "He's in fear of somethreat," pronounced the detective. "It's the same with his mother.Jenny and I were married the day after you found her. She says she'shappy, and she ought to know I'm able to protect her. But she's afraidto speak against the Sisterhood. I shouldn't wonder if they've madeher swear some oath."

  We talked long on the subject, and Teano produced a list of Egyptiansliving in New York, obtained at my request. Some were rich. Thegreater number appeared to be engaged in the import of tobacco andcurios, or Eastern carpets. A few were doctors; more werefortune-tellers; while one extraordinary creature whose descriptioncaught my fancy was a mixture of both: an exponent of ancient cults andreligions, and a qualified physician who treated nervous ailments withhypnotism. This man gave weekly lectures on "Egyptian Wisdom appliedto Modern Civilisation," and was known as "Doctor" or "Professor"Rameses. The name was, of course, assumed; but Teano had learned thatDr. Rameses was more than respectable; he was estimable. Following hisreligion, which claimed that each soul was a spark from the one LivingFire, he aimed to help all mankind, and was apparently a truephilanthropist.

  When Teano spoke of returning to New York it was time for me to start.I invited him into my car, and preparing to depart, I came upon theforgotten medicine. Thorne had prophesied that I would prove a badpatient; but I tried to atone by swallowing an extra large dose. Thebottle I slipped into my overcoat pocket, intending to take the stuffagain at bedtime.

  "Stop at the Priscilla Alden Hotel," I directed my chauffeur; and itwas only when Teano spoke of "Nella" that I recalled the sisteremployed there. I had seen Nella's photograph at Paul's rooms, takenwith her fiance, Maurice Morosini, and had pleased Teano with praise ofthe girl's beauty. Morosini, too, was of an interesting type. I wassorry to hear from the detective that he had been ordered to join thecolours, and would sail at dawn for Naples.

  "The worst thing is," Teano went on, as we sped toward New York, "thatthose two can't even bid each other good-bye. Anywhere but at thePriscilla Alden, Morosini might walk into the hotel, take the elevatorand go to her floor for a word."

  As Teano talked a pain behind my eyes began to run through my temples,and into the back of my neck to the spine.

  Something queer was the matter. I was conscious that Teano was askingalarmed questions, and that Nickey was staring. I was thankful that wehad got to New York before the attack overwhelmed me, for I must leavethe letter at the Priscilla Alden. As the motor slowed down in frontof the hotel I remember pushing Teano aside and stumbling out of thecar, the letter in my hand. I wasn't even aware of dropping theenvelope addressed to Miss Gibson. Only Nickey, peering from thedepths of the car, saw the fall, and would have darted to retrieve it,had not a man grabbed the letter as it touched the pavement. Teano wasoccupied with me, and so it seems was Maurice Morosini, who had beenwandering up and down before the hotel, in the hope that Nella mightcome out. He sprang to help Paul, and there was no one for Nickey totell, in his queer way, by gestures and rough sketches on a slate, whathad happened. Afterward the detective did learn in this fashion thatthe man who picked up the letter was a chauffeur from a car followingus, which had stopped when we stopped. But then it was too late forthe knowledge to be useful.

  Despite protests from the doorman, Teano and Morosini half carried,half dragged me into the hotel. Once inside, they suggested that itwould be inhuman not to give me shelter; they made great play with myname and title, and threatened reprisals if I should be turned out.

  "I suppose under the circumstances we'll have to give his lordship aroom and get a doctor in," groaned the manager. "But it's againstrules. However, we'll smuggle Lord John up
to the thirteenth floor,where there's a small room vacant."

  It's an ill wind that blows nobody good, and Morosini must have praisedthe saints for my illness when he found it giving him the chance hewould have bought with half a year of life. He was going to thethirteenth floor of the sacred Priscilla Alden; and on that floor wasNella Teano!

  One glance he threw at Paul across my head, as the two helped me out ofthe lift, and then his heart bounded with great joy, for close by wasthe telephone window.

  "The only room disengaged to-night is farther down the corridor," themanager explained. "I wish we could spare this one just opposite, butthere's a lady coming into it later," and he threw a regretful glanceat a door barred by a chambermaid, her arms full of linen and towels.She had been getting ready Number 1313 for its next occupant, but inher surprise dropped a wad of sheets and pillow-cases. Stooping topick them up, a sharp word from the manager sent her flying; andMorosini noticed that she had forgotten to take her pass-key from thelock.

  I had revived enough to walk mechanically, like a man in a dream,without support, so Morosini left me to the guidance of Teano and themanager, and ran back to the lighted window which framed his adoredone. She sprang to her feet as Morosini held out his arms.

  "Oh, Maurice!" she gasped.

  "Give me a kiss to take with me--perhaps to my death," he implored.The girl gave it, leaning over the narrow edge of her window. NellaTeano would have dared anything rather than refuse what might be a lastrequest; yet the danger was great, and she started at sound of thelift. "What _shall_ we do?" she gasped. "You mustn't be seen----"

  But Morosini did not await the end of her sentence. For the girl'ssake he must hide. Besides, he hoped to snatch another moment when thecoast should be clear. With a bound he crossed the corridor, openedthe door of 1313, and shut himself in. Meanwhile the manager,telephoning to the office from my room, had learned that the doctor hewished to get was in the hotel, just leaving a patient. Out hurriedthe manager to meet the doctor at the lift and discuss the case beforereturning to my room. That room, as fate would have it, happened to beon the other side of a narrow court, opposite 1313, the windows facingeach other.

  Poor Morosini had thought himself blessed by Heaven in his unhoped-forchance to see Nella. He still thought the same, as he stood inside theroom across from the telephone bureau; but luck had turned. Hardly hadthe door closed upon Morosini, when the chambermaid crept back to locknumber 1313, and regained the forgotten pass-key. Nella woulddesperately have called the girl, making some excuse, or, if worst cameto worst, even telling her the truth. At that instant, however, thedoctor came from the lift, to station himself in front of the telephonewindow. He could see the manager advancing, and so also could themaid. In fear of meeting this awe-inspiring personage again, shesnatched the key with frenzy and fled, while Nella sat doomed tosilence.

  Morosini's first hint of trouble came with the grating of the key inthe lock. He dared not try the door at the moment, for he could hearthe voice of the manager. What could he do if Nella were unable toopen the door? If there were a ledge or cornice running under thewindow, he might attempt to creep along it and find a way of descent bya fire escape. He had switched on a light, and had seen the window,covered with a dark blind, when a faint rattle of paper attracted hiseyes to the door. A white envelope was being slipped underneath.Morosini seized it, and read in Nella's handwriting, "I'll try to get apass-key and let you out, but can't tell how or when. Turn off theelectricity. It can be seen through the transom."

  Meanwhile, in my room, while I lay in a half-doze on the bed, thedoctor listened to Teano's story of my sudden seizure. The medicinebottle was found and produced, and as I had mentioned my visit toThorne, the detective could supply some information. The New Yorkdoctor got into communication with the Long Island man over the 'phone,and thus started the train which enabled us later to make valuabledeductions. The bandaged patient had doubtless tampered with thebottle in the shelter of his automobile, and remained at the pharmacyuntil the return of his chauffeur. The nature of the added ingredientwas discovered eventually by analysis; and had I taken one more of thedoses directed by Dr. Thorne, nothing could have saved my life. As itwas, the effects were temporary; and when some nauseous stuff had beenpoured down my throat, increasing the heart action, consciousness ofsurroundings came like the waking from a dream. Teano it was who hadrun out with the hotel doctor's prescription and returned with it madeup. So great had been his haste that Nella's appeal detained him ather window only for an instant. He had no time to give help, for mylife might depend on promptness, but he promised aid later.

  As it was, the effect of his treatment satisfied the doctor. Hestopped by my bedside till I crudely invited him to go, and let mesleep. All I needed to restore me was a night's rest. My presence inthe hotel was not to be talked about, but the manager would look infrom time to time, and call the doctor if needed. I slept fitfully,glad of the cool air blowing through the open window. Suddenly lightstruck my eyelids. I was roused with a start, and sat up in bed. Myimpression was that someone had come in and switched on theelectricity. But the room was dark, save for a radiant circle on thewall at the foot of my bed. From a bright surface of crystal framed ingold, a woman's face looked out.

  For a dazed second, I thought I had to do with a ghost. I realisedthat what I saw was the reflection of a reflection. My narrow bedstood with its back to the wall beside the window. Opposite thewindow, and therefore facing the foot of the bed, was a round mirror ina gilt frame. A dark blind had suddenly been thrown up, across thenarrow court, and a woman, pausing before the glass in her room, sentinto the dusk of mine her image. She was taking off her hat, lookingat herself; and there she was fantastically, at the foot of my bed, forme to look at too. The effect was so extraordinary that it held mefascinated, until another woman came into the room.

  When Maurice Morosini heard the sound of a key in the lock, it wasmusic to his ears. He believed that at last (hours had gone) Nellafound herself able to open his prison. But another second undeceivedhim. A voice was saying, "One moment, madam. Let me find the electricswitch before you go in."

  All the young man's blood seemed to flow back upon his heart. Thethought in his mind was, that Nella would suffer disgrace. While ahand groped for the switch he flung himself on the floor, and creptunder the bed.

  "My moment will come," he reflected, "when the woman falls asleep.Then I can let myself out."

  But the occupant for whom 1313 had been reserved was in no hurry forsleep. Morosini heard her moving about, and ventured to peep. He sawa small woman, young and rather pretty, of what might be classified asthe "governess type." She did not undress, but seemed restless.Fussing round the room, she shot up the green blind and opened thewindow. Then she flew to the door. There had been a faint knock.Maurice peered from his hiding-place, and saw another woman come in.She, too, was plainly dressed, but older and with a harder, moreexperienced face.

  "What _can_ Nella be doing?" the trapped prisoner wondered. If shewere still at the telephone bureau she must know that 1313 now had anoccupant. Poor girl! Her misery must be equal to his.

  Nella did know. She had seen the young woman go in. When no alarmfollowed, however, the girl's stopped heart beat again. But thesituation had become impossible. She seized the first chance to callTeano. "It's too late for you to help, even if you could get inagain," she whispered into the telephone, fearing to be overheard bysome one passing. "A lady has gone into 1313 for the night. And I'msupposed to shut my window and go off duty in half an hour. Here comesShannon, the night watchman, now."

  As she spoke, a woman knocked at the door of 1313. Nella listened;soon she could hear voices speaking earnestly. Then they grew loud andshrill. "The women are quarrelling!" she thought. "Can it haveanything to do with Maurice?" The transom snapped shut as she askedherself the question. The speakers were afraid of being overheard.That, at least, proved they believed themselves alo
ne together!

  "Well, here I am. I've given you time enough to make up your mind,haven't I, Miss Gibson?" began the new-comer.

  "Yes, and I have made it up," answered the younger. "I don't sayyou're not acting in good faith. The note you brought to the docklooks like Mr. Odell's handwriting. And it's just as you said it wouldbe. I found no letter of instructions waiting here. All the same,Miss Parsons, I won't give up the jewel till morning, when I've madesure the person I expected is not going to call."

  "You _are_ silly!" cried the other. "Now, how _could_ I have knownthere _was_ a jewel coming with a Miss Gibson on this ship, if I wasn'tall right?"

  "That's true," the younger woman admitted. "I don't see how you couldhave known except from Mr. Odell. But I'm not taking chances! Ifnobody else shows up before nine to-morrow morning, why then----"

  "I have to go west to-morrow morning," explained Miss Parsons, hervoice quivering with impatience. "I can't wait. I told you so on thedock. You _must_ give me the thing now."

  "I won't--so there!" shrilled Miss Gibson.

  The older woman stared at the obstinate young face in desperatesilence. Then she broke out fiercely, all effort at suppression over."I believe you want me to _bribe_ you!" And she pulled from a velvethandbag a roll of bank-notes.

  Mary Gibson drew in her breath with a gasp. "_Why_--you've gothundreds and hundreds of dollars! I believe you're a _fraud_! You'reafter me to steal the jewel. Get out of this room, you thief, or I'llcall----"

  The sentence broke off with a queer gurgle. The woman who calledherself Miss Parsons had snatched a long hatpin from the other girl'shat on the table, and stabbed Mary Gibson through the heart. She fellwithout a cry.

  This was the tragedy mirrored on my wall at the foot of my bed. I sawthe fall. I saw the murderess stoop; I saw her rise with something inher hand--something that gleamed green and blue, like a wonderfulbutterfly's wing. As I stumbled out of bed and groped for thedressing-gown which Teano had unpacked, I saw the woman tiptoe towardsthe door. Then a man's face came into the picture.

  The murderess turned and saw the face also. But instead of trying toescape, she did a wiser thing. Wide open she flung the door andscreamed at the top of her lungs, "Help! Murder! A burglar has killedmy friend!"

  The big night watchman, who had paused on his round for a chat withNella, seized Morosini as the Italian sprang on the woman at thethreshold.

  "Maurice!" shrieked Nella, betraying her secret, yet caring not at all.Her one thought was of the man she loved. "He's innocent. He came tosee _me_, not to steal, or murder."

  Morosini realised quickly how the case stood. He was lost if he couldnot get free, he thought. And so it might have been, if that lightedpicture had not appeared on the wall at the crucial instant. I cametottering around the corner in time to shout:

  "Don't let that woman go: she committed the murder. I saw it. I'veenough evidence to convict her, and the jewel she did it for is in herhand now."

  Miss Parsons stared at me like a mad creature, flung from her the Eyeof Horus, and rushing back into the room of death, was out of thewindow before we could reach her.

  Never before had the Priscilla Alden been smirched by scandal. Themanagers were in despair. But the suicide from a window on thethirteenth floor, and the story of my vision in the room opposite,combined with the romance of Nella and Morosini, attracted new clientsinstead of driving away the old.

  "Miss Parsons," identified in death, proved to be an ex-convict, whohad mysteriously disappeared from the ken of the police months before.Thanks, however, to that page of _The World_, missing from Dr. Thorne'soffice, her tragedy in an attempt to steal the Egyptian Eye of Horuscarried me one step further on my own quest.