I.

I AM tired of your devilish hints, why can't you come out with it,

man?" The speaker was half angry.

Parks leaned forward on the table, his face was narrow and full of

cunning. "Mystery is your long suit, Hogarth, I compliment you."

"You tire me," said the man; "if you have any reason for bringing me

here at this hour of the night I want to know it."

"Would I be here in the office at two o'clock in the morning, with a

detective and without a reason? Listen, I will be plain with you. I must

get Mr. Mason out of New York; he is going rapidly, and unless he gets

a sea-voyage and a change of country he will be in the mad-house. He is

terribly thin and scarcely sleeps any more at all. No human being

can imagine what a monster he is to manage, or in what an infinitely

difficult position I have been placed. When we came here from Paris,

after the unfortunate collapse of the canal syndicate, the situation

that confronted me was of the most desperate character. Mr. Mason was

practically a bankrupt. He had spent his entire fortune in a mighty

effort to right the syndicate, and would have succeeded if it had not

been for the treachery of some of the French officials. He had been

absent so long from New York that his law practice was now entirely

lost, and, worst of all, this mysterious tilt of his mind would render

it utterly impossible for him ever to regain his clientage. For a time

I was in despair. Mr. Mason was, of course, utterly oblivious to the

situation, and there was no one with whom I could advise, even if I

dared attempt it. When everything failed in Paris, Mr. Mason collapsed,

physically. He was in the hospital for months; when he came out, his

whole nature was wrenched into this strange groove, although his mind

was apparently as keen and powerful as ever and his wonderful faculties

unimpaired. He seemed now possessed by this one idea, that all the

difficulties of men were problems and that he could solve them.

"A few days after we landed in New York, I wandered into the

court-house; a great criminal had been apprehended and was being tried

for a desperate crime. I sat down and listened. As the case developed,

it occurred to me that the man had botched his work fearfully, and that

if he could have had Mr. Mason plan his crime for him he need never have

been punished. Then the inspiration came. Why not turn this idea of Mr.

Mason to account?

"I knew that the city was filled with shrewd, desperate men, who

feared nothing under high heaven but the law, and were willing to take

desperate chances with it. I went to some of them and pointed out the

mighty aid that I could give; they hooted at the idea, and said that

crime was crime and the old ways were the best ways."

Parks paused and looked up at the detective. "They have since changed

their minds," he added.

"What did Mr. Mason think of your method of securing clients?" said

Hogarth.

"That was my greatest difficulty," continued Parks. "I resorted to every

known trick in order to prevent him from learning how the men happened

to come to him, and so far I have been successful. He has never

suspected me, and has steadily believed that those who came to him with

difficulties were attracted by his great reputation. By this means, Mr.

Mason has made vast sums of money, but what he has done with it is a

mystery. I have attempted to save what I could, but I have not enough

for this extended trip to the south of France. Now, do you understand

me?"

"Yes," answered the detective, "you want to find where his money is

hidden."

"No," said Parks, with a queer smile, "I am not seeking impossible

ventures. What Randolph Mason chooses to make a mystery will remain so

to the end of time, all the detectives on the earth to the contrary."

"What do you want, then?" asked Hogarth, doggedly.

Parks drew his chair nearer to the man and lowered his voice. "My

friend," he said, "this recent change in the administration of the city

has thrown you out on your uppers. Your chief is gone for good, and with

him all your hopes in New York. It was a rout, my friend, and they have

all saved themselves but you. What is to become of you?"

"God knows!" said the detective. "Of course I am still a member of the

agency, but there is scarcely bread in that."

"This world is a fighting station," continued Parks. "The one intention

of the entire business world is robbery. The man on the street has no

sense of pity; he grows rich because he conceives some shrewd scheme

by which he is enabled to seize and enjoy the labor of others. His only

object is to avoid the law; he commits the same wrong and causes the

same resulting injury as the pirate. The word 'crime,' Hogarth, was

invented by the strong with which to frighten the weak; it means

nothing. Now listen, since the thing is a cutthroat game, why not have

our share of the spoil?" Hogarth's face was a study; Parks was shrewdly

forcing the right door.

"My friend," the little man went on, "we can make a fortune by a twist

of the wrist, and go scot-free with the double eagles clinking in

our pockets. We can make it in a day, and thereafter wag our heads at

fortune and snap our fingers at the law."

"How?" asked the detective. The door had broken and swung in.

"I will tell you," said Parks, placing his hand confidentially on the

man's shoulder. "Mr. Mason has a plan. I know it, because yesterday he

was walking up Broadway, apparently oblivious to everything. Suddenly

his face cleared up, and he stopped and snapped his fingers. 'Good!'

he said, 'a detective could do it, and it would be child play, child

play.'"

Hogarth's countenance fell. "Is that all?" he said.

"All!" echoed Parks, bringing his hand down on the table. "Is n't that

enough, man? You don't know Randolph Mason. If he has a plan by which a

detective can make a haul, it is good, do you hear, and it goes."

"What does this mean, Parks?" said a voice.

The little clerk sprang up and whirled round. In his vehemence he had

not noticed the door-way. Randolph Mason stood in the shadow. He was

thin and haggard, his face was shrunken and unshaven, and he looked worn

and exhausted.

"Oh, sir," said Parks, gathering himself quickly, "this is my friend

Braxton Hogarth, and he is in great trouble. He came here to ask me for

help; we have been talking over the matter for many hours, and I don't

see any way out for him."

"Where has the trap caught him?" said Mason, coming into the room.

"It is an awful strange thing, sir," answered the clerk. "Mr. Hogarth's

only son is the teller of the Bay State Bank in New Jersey. This morning

they found that twenty thousand dollars was missing from the vault. No

one had access to the vault yesterday but young Hogarth. The cashier was

in this city, the combination was not known to any others. There is no

evidence of robbery. The circumstances are so overwhelming against young

Hogarth that the directors went to him and said plainly that if the

money was in its place by Saturday night he would not be prosecuted,

and the matter would be hushed up. He protested his innocence, but they

simply laughed and would not listen to him. The boy is prostrated, and

we know that he is innocent, but there is no way on earth to save

him unless Mr. Hogarth can raise the money, which is a hopeless

impossibility."

Parks paused, and glanced at Hogarth, the kind of glance that obtains

among criminals when they mean, "back up the lie."

The detective buried his face in his hands.

"The discretion of Fate is superb," said Mason. "She strikes always the

vulnerable spot. She gives wealth if one does not need it; fame, if one

does not care for it; and drives in the harpoon where the heart is."

"The strange thing about it all, sir," continued Parks, "is that Mr.

Hogarth has been a detective all his life and now is a member of the

Atlantic Agency. It looks like the trailed thing turning on him."

"A detective!" said Mason, sharply. "Ah, there is the open place, and

there we will force through."

The whole appearance of the man changed in an instant. He straightened

up, and his face lighted with interest. He drew up a chair and sat down

at the table, and there, in the chill dark of that November morning, he

unfolded the daring details of his cross-plot, and the men beside him

stared in wonder.