Part 25 (2/2)

”Well, if I knew your father's name perhaps I could tell you. Who is your father?”

”He's Mr. Merton. I'm his son. And he said to me, before he got so bad, he said, 'There's just one honest man in this city, and that's Mr.

Elden.' Is that you, Mr. Elden?”

”Well, I hope it is, but I won't claim such a distinction. I remember your father very well. Did he send you to me?”

”No sir. He's too sick. He don't know anybody now. He didn't know me to-night.” The boy's voice went thick, and he stopped and swallowed.

”And then I remembered what he said about you, and I just came. Was that all right, Mr. Elden?”

”You say your father is very sick?”

”He don't know anybody.”

”Have you help--a doctor--a nurse?”

”No sir. We haven't any money. My father spent it all for the lots that he bought from you.”

Dave winced. Then, turning to the young woman, ”I'm afraid this is a more urgent case than yours. I'll call a taxi to take you to your address.”

To his surprise his visitor broke out in a ribald laugh. She had seated herself on a desk, and was swinging one foot jauntily.

”It's all off,” she said. ”Say, Dave, you couldn't lose me in this burg. You don't remember me, do you? Well, all the better. I'm rather glad I broke down on this job. I used to be something of an actress, and I'd have put it over if it hadn't been for the kid. The fact is, Dave,” she continued, ”I was sent up here to decoy you. It wasn't fair fighting, and I didn't like it, but money has been mighty slow of late. I wonder--how much you'd give to know who sent me?”

Dave pulled some bills from his pocket and held them before her. She took them from his hand.

”Conward,” she said.

Dave's blood went to his head. ”The scoundrel!” he cried. ”The low down dog! There's more in this than appears on the surface.”

”Sure there is,” she said. ”There's another woman. There always is.”

Elden walked to his desk. From a drawer he took a revolver; toyed with it a moment in his hands; broke it open, crammed it full of cartridges and thrust it in his pocket.

The girl watched him with friendly interest. ”Believe me, Dave,” she said, ”if Conward turns up missing I won't know a thing--not a d---- thing.”

For a moment he stood irresolute. He could only guess what Conward's plan had been, but that it had been diabolical and cowardly, and that it concerned Irene, he had no doubt. His impulse was to immediately confront Conward, force a confession, and deal with him as the occasion might seem to require. But his eye fell on the boy, with his shock of brown hair and wistful, half-frightened face.

”I'll go with you first,” he said, with quick decision. Then to the girl, ”Sorry I must turn you out, but this case is urgent.”

”That's all right,” she said. Suddenly there was a little catch in her voice. ”I'm used to being turned out.”

He shot a sharp glance at her. Her face was laughing. ”You're too decent for your job,” he said, abruptly.

”Thanks, Dave,” she answered, and he saw her eyes glisten. ”That helps--some.” And before he knew it she was into the street.

”All right, son,” said Dave, taking up the matter now in hand. ”What's your name--your first name?”

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