HOW STORRI EXPLORED FOR GOLD
Should it ever be your fancy to witness on the part of any gentleman an
exhibition of ferocity unrestrained, that you may have him at his best
for your experiment, it would be wise to commence by subjecting him to a
tremendous fright. Being first frightened and then relieved from his
terror, and particularly if his nature be a trifle rough, he will if
brought suddenly into the presence of one who has injured him furnish
all you could desire in a picture of the sort adverted to. And thus was
it with Mr. Harley that evening when he called on Storri--now no longer
terrible.
The offensive utmost that one gentleman might say to another, Mr. Harley
said to his aforetime noble friend. He crushed Storri beneath fourfold
what bulk of insolence and contumelious remark he himself had received,
for at that fashion of conversation Mr. Harley was Storri's superior.
Mr. Harley rendered Storri such shameful accounts of himself that the
latter was well-nigh consumed with what inward fires were ignited.
Storri burned the more because his own cowardly alarms tied his hands
and gagged retort upon his tongue. Mr. Harley, who had been frightened
to the brink of collapse in the only manner that Storri might have
frightened him, now refreshed himself unchecked and fed retaliation to
the full.
Storri, craven to the roots, must fain submit. The murderous facility
wherewith Mr. Harley in the beginning invested the conversation with
that pistol had not been lost upon Storri, and he shivered lest the
interview conclude with his own murder. Mr. Harley, having exhausted
expletive and opprobrious term, might empty the six chambers of his
dreadful weapon into Storri. Thus spake Storri's fears, and he cowered
while Mr. Harley raged. Indeed, the tables had been turned, and Mr.
Harley was taking virulent advantage of the reversal. Among other
matters, he taunted Storri with his, Mr. Harley's, possession of those
French shares, and gave him to know that the happy transfer had been the
fruit of his, Mr. Harley's, own superior wit.
"For," said Mr. Harley, with no more noble purpose than to augment
Storri's pangs, "did you think that one of my depth was for long to be
held at the mercy of such a dolt as yourself?"
"Then it was you," moaned Storri, who made the mistake of believing what
Mr. Harley said, "then it was you who bought Northern Consolidated--you,
and your confederates to whom you betrayed us?"
Mr. Harley smiled loftily, and was silent as though disdaining reply. He
was willing to have Storri think his overthrow due to him and him alone.
It would please him should Storri believe that he, Mr. Harley, had
conquered not only the possession of those shares, but of the five
hundred thousand dollars which were so painfully collected as Storri's
contribution to the pool's four millions. It would promote Mr. Harley's
satisfaction to the superlative; it would make Storri's humiliation
complete. By all means teach Storri that he, Mr. Harley, constructed the
ambush into which the pool had sold its blindfold way. Wherefore, Mr.
Harley with shrug and sneer consented to Storri's charges of betrayal,
and intimated his own profitable joy of that treason. After thirty
minutes of triumph, Mr. Harley, mightily restored in his own graces,
arose to depart.
"And for a last word, you scoundrel," quoth the loud Mr. Harley, "I told
Mrs. Hanway-Harley I would shoot you if you so much as laid hand to my
front gate. You might do well to remember that promise; I have been
known on occasion to tell Mrs. Hanway-Harley the truth."
After the last gloomy notice Mr. Harley went his defiant way, while
Storri sank back a more deeply wounded wolf than ever.
Mr. Harley drew his check and dispatched it to Mr. Fopling, and Richard
in due course received a check from the latter. Mr. Harley did not
allude to the transaction on those few and distant occasions when he and
Mr. Fopling met; and Mr. Fopling, burdened of his feuds with Ajax, soon
forgot the affair in matters more important.
Mr. Harley, when emancipated from the thraldom of Storri, was as
dollarless so far as immediate cash was concerned as was the stripped
Storri himself. But in the rebound of spirit which followed, Mr.
Harley's genius regained its old-time elasticity. A member of the House
with whom he was in touch, being one of that speculative party who
opened the New Year at Chamberlin's with cards, was so conveniently
good-natured as to offer a measure putting coal on the free list. This,
if passed, would be a woundy blow to the Harley mines; also to that
railway whereof Mr. Harley was a director, since it hauled the Harley
coal to the seaboard. With coal on the free list, Nova Scotia could
undersell the Harley mines in every Atlantic port; likewise the Harley
road would lose two millions in annual freight. Under these threatening
conditions, Mr. Harley was instantly given one hundred thousand dollars
by the mines and the railroad to kill the iniquitous bill, and convert
to a right opinion any and all who talked of coal and free lists in one
and the same breath. Those one hundred thousand dollars relieved the
pressing needs of Mr. Harley, and the bill that threatened coal and
railroads was heard of no more.
When, following Mr. Harley's gracious words concerning Richard and Mrs.
Hanway-Harley's disconsolate departure for her own room, Dorothy danced
across to Bess, the yellow-haired sorceress rose grandly to the
opportunity. She sent Mr. Fopling to find Richard; and since Mr.
Fopling's weakness was not of the legs--he being a very Mercury, with
feet as fleet as his wits were slow--Dorothy and Bess had no more than
finished giving and receiving congratulations, _i. e._, kisses, when
Richard appeared and took Bess's labor of congratulation off her
hands--or should one say her lips? Bess was of those excellent folk
whose fine friendships know when to go as well as when to stay, and,
Richard arriving, she conveyed Mr. Fopling and Ajax from the room,
leaving the restored lovers to themselves.
Of what worth now to tell you those sweetheart things that Richard and
his angel said and did? How would it advantage a world to hear that he
took her in his arms and held her close? You, who have loved and have
been loved, who were lost and have been found again, well know the
blissful routine. Richard said that no woman was ever loved as he loved
Dorothy. Dorothy the beloved replied that no man was ever loved as she
loved Richard. Both believed both statements as they did the Word. And
yet Adam said the same thing when, wandering in Eden, he first met
lovely Eve, and every lover has said the same thing ever since. Every
fire boasts itself the hottest, every lover does the same. It is the
virtue of love that this is so, and none will object while Dorothy and
Richard work out their tinted destiny on lines of paradise. They had
been held apart; they were now together; rely upon it they said and
looked those softly tender, foolish, happy, precedental things which
have been best among the best lessons of the ages.
[Illustration: He Held Her Close]
Mr. Harley was pompous and patronizing the next evening when he met
Richard at dinner; but Mr. Harley was no less kind. Richard submitted
himself to Mr. Harley's patronage, for in it he recognized the
inalienable right of a father-in-law. Mrs. Hanway-Harley on that dinner
occasion did not pretend to the rugged, high good humor of her spouse,
and cultivated a manner at once blighted and resigned. But she was civil
even as she sighed, and he would have been a carper who complained.
Dorothy was beset of many shynesses now that she was brought with her
beloved into the presence of ones who were aware of her secret without
possessing sympathy therewith. Bess was there; but Bess did not weigh
upon her, since Bess applauded her love. Senator Hanway was there; but
"Uncle Pat" did not confuse her, since he cared nothing about her love.
It was Mr. Harley who permitted, and Mrs. Hanway-Harley who tolerated,
her heart's choice that set her cheeks aflame. Still it was good to see
Richard sitting across in the serpent stead of Storri--to see one whom
she worshiped where one whom she feared and loathed had been before! It
was twice good to think the present was immortal while the past was
dead. As Dorothy thought these things and sweetly blushed to think them,
you would have been reminded of a rose, if her blue eyes had not made
you remember violets, or by their clear, true, tranquil depths led you
away to muse on summer skies.
Richard bore the ordeal of that dinner manfully; ordeal it was, for he
felt himself on exhibition. He was rigorous to seem unruffled, and
defended his calmness by talking general politics with Senator Hanway.
Nor did he fall into the error of speaking of tempests in the stock
market; and as for the recreant Storri, no one named him. Bess might
have brought Mr. Fopling, for he was asked, could she have trusted that
young gentleman on this point of Storri. But Mr. Fopling was prone to
bring up the one subject which others were trying to forget; and,
realizing his tenacious aptitude for crime of that character, Bess sent
him home and came alone.
Richard, like Storri before him, only with a better conscience, did not
crowd good fortune to the wall; he left early. As he made ready to go,
Mr. Harley invited him not only to another dinner, but to a multitude of
such refections. Mr. Harley, having been thus hospitable, swept Mrs.
Hanway-Harley with arrogant eye as who should say:
"There lies my glove, madam! We shall see who lifts it!"
Altogether, Richard's coming to the Harley house in the rôle of suitor
for Dorothy's small hand went off well; and Dorothy was thinking that
life seemed very beautiful and very bright when four hours later she
fell asleep, and rosy dreams relieved her thoughts from further duty
about her pillow for that night.
Senator Hanway and Mr. Harley, being veterans of the tape, were not
ignorant of the hopeless state into which the failure of that "bear"
raid on Northern Consolidated had plunged them. They could not name him
who had worked the "corner" against them and the other members of the
osprey pool, the hand that defeated them had been played from behind a
curtain. Time, however, would develop the identity of their conqueror;
nor was his identity of first importance, since the great thing was that
they were caught. The best they might do was quietly await destruction
in its coming. It would surely come; "corners" were not made in vain,
and a day would dawn when he who held them captive would disclose
himself. That disclosure would mean for them, financially, the beginning
of the end.
Mr. Harley and Senator Hanway might have repudiated the deal, and so
saved their fortunes at the sacrifice of their names. Indeed they
thought of it; and then they shook their heads. Such a step would ruin
Senator Hanway's hopes of a Presidency; those hard years of political
labor would be canceled; his chances, now the fairest, would be swept
away not only for the present but for time. The discovery of Senator
Hanway--he who wrote the report against Northern Consolidated--as a
partner in that "bear" raid, would strike his name forever from the roll
of Presidential possibilities. It might even result in his expulsion
from the Senate, for conspiracy is no good charge to face when true. Of
those who were "bears" against Northern Consolidated, from Storri to the
old gray buccaneer, the ones who must submit without a cry to being
flayed were Mr. Harley and Senator Hanway, for with them to be
discovered was to be destroyed.
After fullest conference, Mr. Harley went again to New York. It was
settled that the old gray buccaneer should continue in command. When he
who had beaten them unmasked himself, the old gray buccaneer was to
treat for generous terms. With the bankrupt Storri out, there remained
but seven to consider; the old gray buccaneer was to offer a round
ransom of seven millions of dollars, or one million for each. In similar
fashion beaten knights compounded in the dusty lists of Ashby eight
hundred years ago; the amount of ransom that Ashby day was less, but the
principle throughout the centuries has remained unshaken and unchanged.
After four days of wound-nursing, Storri went to the San Reve. He found
that lady of the gray-green eyes sitting sullen and silent, wrapped in
resentful anger like a witch's cloak. One thing in his favor; the San
Reve had not heard of his return, and supposed him just back from New
York.
Storri did his best to be on cheerful terms with the San Reve; he said
his business was now accomplished and he would see her every day. Storri
strove all he knew to soften the San Reve and turn her frowns to smiles.
He failed; nothing would unlock that flinty, hard reserve.
"About the Harleys," said the jealous San Reve at last. "How do you
stand with the Harleys? You still go there?"
The San Reve shot a sharp, inquiring glance at Storri from her
sea-green, sea-gray eyes.
Storri, being feline, was as has been written no one hard to rout, and
could be readily driven from an enterprise. With the loss of those
French shares, his designs on Mr. Harley and his power over Dorothy had
fallen to the ground. He was left with nothing more potent than his
naked hatred. He was more hungry than before for harm against the
Harleys, but the new conditions baffled him as might some bridgeless
gulf. He could see no open way through which he might find his enemies
and overcome them.
But Storri had his miserable prides, and would perish where he stood
rather than tell the San Reve this. With her he must pretend to power;
he must swagger and boast more loudly than before. This was the vanity
and the strategy of the man. He would have thrust his hand into the fire
sooner than confess himself beaten by Mr. Harley to the San Reve. She
must continue to wonder at and worship him; it was the incense demanded
by the nostrils of his self-love.
"How do I stand with those Harleys, my San Reve?" Storri's tone was
supercilious and tired, as though he had been forced to remember ones
who wearied him by vulgarest dint of their inconsequence. "I do not
stand with the Harleys, I stand upon them. Where should such crawling,
footless creatures be?" and Storri pointed to his own somewhat ample
foundations as indicating the groveling whereabouts of the Harleys.
"But you go there?" remarked the San Reve, flintily suspicious.
"No, my San Reve," yawned Storri. "Pardon my grossness;--a yawn in the
presence of a lady, and I a Russian gentleman! I took the habit from
these pig Americans! You should know, my dear San Reve, that the very
name of Harley bores me. No, I shall no more go to those Harleys. They
send, they beg; I do not go. Why should I so honor them? Bah! let them
come to me! Is a Russian--is a nobleman to be at the beck of such vile
little people? No, they must come to me, your Storri, my San Reve; and
when they arrive, bah! I shall not see them. I shall tell them they must
come again!" And Storri lifted his hand grandly, as though the Harleys
were now disposed of and their trivial status fixed.
Storri threw this off with a lazy insolence that, all things considered,
did him credit. And yet he was not wise. He might not have told the San
Reve that he had ended his visits to the Harleys, but her bold brow and
thoughtful face misled him. He regarded her as deeper than she was; he
considered that she would soon discover how he no longer was a guest at
the Harley table, and thought to save himself from an inference by a
proclamation. He would take the initiative and seem to cast the Harleys
into the outer darkness of his disregard. It would make for his standing
with the San Reve; more, it would soothe her jealousies.
Storri might have been justified of his reasonings had there existed no
flaw in his premises. The San Reve was far from being gifted with that
cold, incisive wisdom which he ascribed to her. Given a situation
wherein the San Reve had no concern, and she would be sound enough; her
speculations would defend themselves, her advice be worth a following.
Endow the San Reve with a personal interest, the more if that interest
were one mixed of love and jealousy, and her reason, if that be its
name, would go blind and deaf and lapse into the merest frenzy of
insanity. She would hasten to believe the worst and disbelieve the best.
Under spell of jealousy, the San Reve would accept nothing that told in
her own favor; and just now, despite an outward serenity--for, though
sullen, she was serene--the San Reve was afire with jealousy like a
torch.
The San Reve listened to Storri and said nothing; she could see how
matters stood. Storri still dominated the Harleys; he went there; he saw
Miss Harley; his suit was advancing; that was what had sent him to her,
the San Reve, with a lie on his lips about having quit his calls at the
Harleys'; he was seeking to blind her to what was passing. But she, the
San Reve, would be cunning; she would fathom the traitor Storri. Even
then she could foretell the end. In a week, or mayhap a month, the news
would reach her of the wedding of Storri and Miss Harley. What else
could come? Storri was a Count. Were not Americans mad after Counts? And
such a nobleman! Wealthy, handsome, brilliant, bold--who could refuse
his love? Not the Harleys--not Miss Harley! No, the transparent sureness
of it set sneeringly a-curl the San Reve's mouth. Soon or late, Storri
would lead Miss Harley to the altar. The bells would ring, the organ
swell, the people gape and comment. And then Storri and his bride would
ride away; while she, the San Reve--she, the disgraced--she, the
daughter of a man who tamed lions--she would be left alone with her
despised heart!
All this wild driftwood of conjecture came riding down on the swift,
tumbling currents of the San Reve's thoughts, and to her these mad
conclusions were as prophecy. What should she do--she and her poor love?
She must not lose her idol--her Storri! What should she do? She had
written this Mr. Storms of the French shares and nothing had come of
that! Should she disclose herself to Miss Harley? Of what avail? What
woman was ever withheld from wedding a man by the word of that man's
mistress? The San Reve could have scorned herself for a fool! She was
handless to interfere; the San Reve clenched her white, strong teeth to
find herself so much at bay.
Stop; there was one chance of defeating fate--a sure chance; the thought
had come before! And now the San Reve looked strangely at Storri; her
teeth showed pearl against the coral of her parted lips while her
nostrils dilated like the nostrils of an animal.
The little world you have been considering through the medium of this
veracious chronicle began now to adjust itself to the changes that have
been recorded. Mr. Harley and Senator Hanway, for their parts, gave
themselves wholly to that winning of a White House; their ardor, if it
were possible, had been promoted by the reverse in Northern
Consolidated, and Senator Hanway's anxiety to be President appeared to
brighten as his money-fortunes dimmed. And, as though Fate meditated
amends for those disasters of stocks, from every angle of politics there
came flattering reports. Senator Hanway was sure, so said the reports,
to write himself "President Hanway"; politicians were shouldering one
another to secure seats in the bandwagon of that statesman's prospects.
True, for all their preoccupation, Mr. Harley and Senator Hanway would
now and then glance up from those details of practical politics over
which they were employed, to wonder why the hidden one of that "corner"
did not close the transaction by peeling off their fiscal pelts. So far
there had come neither word nor sign of him.
The old gray buccaneer exhorted them in no wise to be uneasy.
"You needn't fret," said the old gray buccaneer; "he's got us as fast as
two and two make four. For us to be wondering why he doesn't come around
is as though a coop full of turkeys went wondering why the poulterer
didn't come around. No; I can't tell you why he--whoever he is--so
leaves us in protracted peace. Perhaps he's fattening us," and the old
gray buccaneer cheered the conversation with a laugh as strident as
saw-filing.
Richard and Dorothy, following the selfish fashion of lovers, thought on
nothing but themselves. Our young journalist's contributions to the
_Daily Tory_ fell away in both quantity and quality, and the editor
commented thereon sarcastically, saying they were becoming "baggy at the
knee." Richard did not resent the criticism; he cheered himself with the
theory that when he had recovered from his happiness he would do better.
Meanwhile, he and Dorothy privily appointed their nuptials for the first
of June, taking Bess into the secret.
Dorothy asked Richard how he had rescued her father from beneath the
hand of Storri; which natural inquisition Richard avoided in right
man-fashion by kissing the questioning lips and saying that Dorothy
wouldn't understand.
Mrs. Hanway-Harley was different from Dorothy. With a wifely experience
of many years to guide her, she did not ask Mr. Harley why he had gone
to furious war with Storri. Mrs. Hanway-Harley would not put the query
for two reasons: Mr. Harley would prevaricate; besides, Mrs.
Hanway-Harley knew. It was as obvious as a pikestaff to that sagacious
gentlewoman; Mr. Harley and Storri had quarreled over stocks. Mr. Harley
had been detected in some effort to swindle Storri; or he had detected
Storri in some effort to swindle him; men were always swindling and
quarreling, according to Mrs. Hanway-Harley. She put no question to Mr.
Harley, and only marveled at a thickness that would sacrifice the
family's chance of possessing a Count over a low, trifling matter of
dollars and cents.
Inspector Val, when the capture of the French shares had removed the
reason of his appearance in Storri's destinies, told Richard that he
would, with his permission, still continue on the trail of that
nobleman.
"Unless my judgment be at fault," explained Inspector Val, "there's
something coming off that I wouldn't miss for anything you can name."
Richard, held fast with sweeter problems, cared not at all for Storri
nor Inspector Val's pursuit of him. If it jumped with the humor of that
scientist of stealth, Inspector Val might follow Storri to the grave.
Richard would be pleased to have him do so, and to pay the costs thereof
as rapidly as they accrued.
Inspector Val, whose trade it was to read men, smiled upon Richard at
this and went his satisfied way. He would stick to Storri; and he would
notify Richard should aught unusual either promise or occur. Inspector
Val saw that in Richard's present mood of beatific imbecility a
conference with him would mean no more than would a conference with the
Monument.
Storri, while easily beaten from any specific enterprise, was ever ready
with a fresh one. During those days when, like a convalescing wolf, he
lay hiding with his wounds from the sight and search of men, his
disorderly and, one might say, his criminal, imagination busied itself
in sketching a giant scheme. It was as unique as had been the fallen
Credit Magellan without owning to a shadow of Credit Magellan's
legitimacy. This time Storri would have no partners; there would be no
Mr. Harleys and no osprey pools to sell him out. Before all was done he
might require men; but of the sort one controls like slaves.
There was one need that must be supplied, however; Storri must have
money. Stimulated with the necessities that pricked him, Storri
bethought himself of the Chinese Concession. That precious document was
in his possession; the osprey pool had not been granted its custody.
Storri carried the saffron silk to a rich and avaricious man; he asked
the loan of fifty thousand dollars, and offered interest steeple-high.
The man of wealth and avarice was deeply affected; he, like the others,
sent for the brocaded, poppy-scented Mongol. The poppy Mongol came,
salaamed, translated, and went his way. Then the one of gold and avarice
counted down the fifty thousand, and locked up the yellow silk with
Storri's note for ninety days in his safe.
Being strengthened with those fifty thousand dollars, Storri sought an
ancient surveyor. Did the ancient one possess an accurate map of
Washington?--a map that showed every public building and park and
street-railway and water-main and sewer, all done to the final fraction
of an inch? Storri's Czar has asked for such;--his Czar who so admired
the Americans and their beautiful Capital!
The ancient one of chains and levels had such a map. Being a man to whom
a unit was like a human being and every fraction as a child, the map was
accurate in its measurements to the thickness of a hair. Storri bought
the map; it showed the line of that drain which ran so temptingly close
to the Treasury gold, and Storri's eye glistened as he followed it to
the river's edge.
Storri collected photographs of the Capitol, the White House, and other
public structures as a blind to conceal his purpose and lend luster of
truth to those tales of his Czar's interest in things American. One
evening Storri related to the San Reve his Czar's desires touching maps
and plans and pictures, and showed her, among others, a picture of the
Treasury.
Ah, that reminded Storri! His San Reve worked in the office of the
supervising architect! Could his San Reve procure him a ground-plan of
the Treasury Building? His Czar had laid especial stress upon such a
drawing!
Yes, Storri's San Reve could get the desired ground-plan without
difficulty. It would show everything foundational, with a cross-section
displaying the depth of the walls below street grades.
The San Reve accepted as genuine Storri's eagerness to serve his Czar.
Nor did she doubt Storri's description of the Czar's American curiosity;
from what she had heard of that potentate, the San Reve believed him to
be as crazy as a woman's watch. Certainly, if Storri wished to send the
imperial lunatic a cartload of plans, the San Reve would contribute what
lay in her power.
The next day Storri received from the San Reve a ground-plan of the
Treasury Building. It exhibited in red ink the vault that held the gold
reserve. Storri gazed upon that oblong smudge of red and studied its
location with the devotion of a poet.
And now what was to be more expected than that the curious Czar would
ask questions of Storri, when that illustrious Russian returned to St.
Petersburg, concerning those many superiorities which the American
buildings possessed? The thought set the indefatigable Storri to
visiting the public buildings. He made a tour of the State War and Navy
Building, the Corcoran Gallery, the Capitol, and finally the Treasury
Building. Who should escort him through that latter grim, gray edifice
but an Assistant Secretary? The affable A. S. had met Storri at the
club; certainly he could do no less than give him the polite credit of
his countenance for his instructive rambles. Under such distinguished
patronage Storri went from roof to basement; even the vault that guarded
the nation's gold was thrown open for his regard.
This gold vault was of particular moment to Storri; his Czar had laid
weight upon that vault. Yes; he, Storri, could see how it was
constructed--thick walls of masonry--an inner lining of chilled steel
that would laugh at drills and almost break the teeth of nitric
acid--the steel ceiling and sides bolted to the masonry--the floor,
steel slabs two feet in width, laid side by side but not bolted, and
bedded upon masonry that rested on the ground! Surely, nothing could be
more solid or more secure! The door and the complicated machinery that
locked it were wonders, marvels! Nowhere had he, Storri, beheld such a
door or such a lock, and he had peeped into the strong rooms of a dozen
kings. The gold, too, one hundred and ninety-three millions in all,
packed five thousand dollars to a sack in little canvas sacks like bags
of birdshot, and each sack weighing twenty pounds--Storri saw it all!
"And yet," quoth Storri, giving the polite Assistant Secretary a kind of
leer, "do not that door and lock remind you of the chains and locks upon
your leathern letterbags?--a leathern bag which the most ignorant of men
would slash wide open with a penknife in an instant and never worry
chains and locks?"
Storri traced that drain in its course to the river. It ran south past
the corner of the Treasury Building for the matter of a hundred yards or
more, and then broke south and west across the White Lot between the
White House and the Monument. In the end it abandoned this diagonal
flight and soberly took to the center of a street that lay to the west
of the White House, and followed it to the Potomac.
Storri, hands in pocket and puffing an easy cigar, sauntered to the
water front and took a look at the drain where it finished. The
inspection gratified him; the drain was like a great tunnel; one might
have driven a horse and wagon into it. Storri was especially struck by
the fact that a considerable stream of water gushed from the drain's
mouth; the stream had a fair current, four miles an hour at least, and
showed a depth of full six inches. This was a discovery that set
Storri's wits in motion; the drain boxed in a living brook.
It was eleven o'clock that night when Storri returned to the mouth of
the drain; he was wrapped in a greatcoat and wore high boots. There
were no houses about; as for loiterers, the region was deserted after
dark. Storri looked out on the broad bosom of the river; he noticed that
even at low tide a boat drawing no more than eighteen inches might push
within a dozen feet of the drain.
Satisfied that no one observed him, Storri stepped to the mouth of the
drain and disappeared. He splashed along in the running water with his
heavy boots for something like a rod; then he stopped and lighted a
bicycle lantern which he took from his greatcoat pocket. The lantern
threw a bright flare after the manner of the headlight of a locomotive,
and Storri could hear the scurrying splash of the rats as it sent an
alarming ray ahead like a little searchlight. Being lighted on his way,
Storri kept steadily forward until, turning the corner where the drain
broke to the right across the White Lot, he was lost to sight.
As Storri disappeared, two men far behind him at the mouth of the drain
stood watching. They had thus far followed Storri dimly with their eyes
by the light he carried.
"What's become of him, Inspector?" whispered Mr. Duff, the shorter of
the men. "He hasn't doused his glim, has he?"
"No," replied Inspector Val, "there's a bend at that point."
"What's next?" asked Mr. Duff; "do we follow him in and collar him? or
do we just wait here?"
"Collar him!" repeated Inspector Val disgustedly. "I'd like to catch you
collaring him! Is this a time to talk of collaring, and we no further
than the threshold of the job? Let him alone; he's only laying out the
work to-night."