Part 27 (2/2)

”Joe,” he said firmly, ”take me to that money at once.”

”It's out here,” replied Bland. He and Hayden disappeared through the dining-room door into the darkness. Cargan and Max followed close behind.

Hot with excitement, Mr. Magee slipped from his place of concealment. A battle fit for the G.o.ds was in the air. He must be in the midst of it--perhaps again in a three-cornered fight it would be the third party that would emerge victorious.

In the darkness of the dining-room he b.u.mped into a limp clinging figure. It proved to be the Hermit of Baldpate Mountain.

”I got to talk to you, Mr. Magee,” he whispered in a frightened tremolo.

”I got to have a word with you this minute.”

”Not now,” cried Magee, pus.h.i.+ng him aside. ”Later.”

The hermit wildly seized his arm.

”No, now,” he said. ”There's strange goings-on, here, Mr. Magee. I got something to tell you--about a package of money I found in the kitchen.”

Mr. Magee stood very still. Beside him in the darkness he heard the hermit's excited breathing.

CHAPTER XIV

THE SIGN OF THE OPEN WINDOW

Undecided, Mr. Magee looked toward the kitchen door, from behind which came the sound of men's voices. Then he smiled, turned and led Mr.

Peters back into the office. The Hermit of Baldpate fairly trembled with news.

”Since I broke in on you yesterday morning,” he said in a low tone as he took a seat on the edge of a chair, ”one thing has followed another so fast that I'm a little dazed. I can't just get the full meaning of it all.”

”You have nothing on me there, Peters,” Magee answered. ”I can't either.”

”Well,” went on the hermit, ”as I say, through all this downpour of people, including women, I've hung on to one idea. I'm working for you.

You give me my wages. You're the boss. That's why I feel I ought to give what information I got to you.”

”Yes, yes,” Mr. Magee agreed impatiently. ”Go ahead.”

”Where you find women,” Peters continued, ”there you find things beyond understanding. History--”

”Get to the point.”

”Well--yes. This afternoon I was looking round through the kitchen, sort of reconnoitering, you might say, and finding out what I have to work with, for just between us, when some of this bunch goes I'll easily be persuaded to come back and cook for you. I was hunting round in the big refrigerator with a candle, thinking maybe some little token of food had been left over from last summer's rush--something in a can that time can not wither nor custom stale, as the poet says--and away up on the top shelf, in the darkest corner, I found a little package.”

”Quick, Peters,” cried Magee, ”where is that package now?”

”I'm coming to that,” went on the hermit, not to be hurried. ”What struck me first about the thing was it didn't have any dust on it.

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