Part 13 (1/2)

Achilles's face held its steady light. ”I think we find her,” he said.

The inspector did not laugh. He studied the man's face slowly, whistling a little between his teeth. ”What's your plan?” he said.

Achilles shook his head. ”When I see those men--I go follow.”

The detective smiled--a little line of smile... that did not scorn him.

”When you see them--yes!” he said softly.

The chief of police, listening with half an ear, laughed out. ”Catch your hare, Alexander!” He said it with superior ease.

Achilles looked at him. ”I catch hair?” he asked with polite interest.

The chief nodded. ”You catch your hare before you cook it, you know.”

Achilles ran a slim, thoughtful hand along his dark locks and shook them slowly. The conversation had pa.s.sed beyond him.

The detective smiled a little. ”Never mind him, Alexander. Anything that you find--you bring to me--right off.” He clinked a little money in his pocket and looked at him.

But Achilles's gaze had no returning gleam. ”When I find her,” he said, ”I tell you--I tell everybody.” His face had lightened now.

The detective laughed. ”All right, Alexander! You're game, all right!”

Achilles looked at him with puzzled eyes. ”I go now,” he said. He moved away with the smooth, unhurried rhythm that bore him swiftly along.

The eyes of the two men followed him. ”You're welcome to him!” said the chief carelessly.

”I don't feel so sure,” said the other--”He may do it yet--right under our noses. I've done it myself--you know.”

The chief looked at him curiously.

”_I_ used to do it--time and again,” said the man, thoughtfully. ”_I_ couldn't 'a' told you--_how_. I'd study on a case--and study--and give it up--and then, all of a sudden--pop!--and there it was--in my head.

I couldn't have told how it got there, but it worked all right!” He lighted a cigar and threw the match from him, puffing slowly. ”I'd do it now--if I could.” He was lost in thought. ”There's something in his eyes--that Greek. I'd like to be inside that black skull of his a minute.” He sauntered across the room and went out.

The eyes of the chief of police looked after him vaguely. He drew a column of figures toward him and began to add it--starting at the bottom and travelling slowly up. He was computing his revenues for the coming year.

XXIV

IT FLOATS A LITTLE

Achilles found Philip Harris at luncheon, and waited for him to come back, and laid his plan before him.

The millionaire listened, and nodded once or twice, and took up the receiver and gave an order. ”He'll be at your place every day,” he said to Achilles as he hung it up. ”You tell him what you want--and let me know if there's anything else--money--?” He looked at him.

But Achilles shook his head. ”I got money,” he said quickly. ”I get money--six--seven dollar--every day. I do good business!”

The millionaire smiled, a little bitterly. ”I do good business, too; but it doesn't seem to count much. Well--let me know--” He held out his hand and Achilles took it and hesitated and looked at the seamed red face that waited for him to go--then he went quietly out.

He would have liked to speak swift words of hope--they rode high in his heart--but something in the face put him off and he went out into the suns.h.i.+ne and walked fast. He looked far ahead as he went, smiling softly at his dream. And now and then a man pa.s.sed him--and looked back and smiled too--a shrew, tolerant, grown-up smile.