The Treasure-Train Read online

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  THE TREASURE-TRAIN

  BY

  ARTHUR B. REEVE

  FRONTISPIECE BY WILL FOSTER

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I. THE TREASURE-TRAIN

  II. THE TRUTH-DETECTOR

  III. THE SOUL-ANALYSIS

  IV. THE MYSTIC POISONER

  V. THE PHANTOM DESTROYER

  VI. THE BEAUTY MASK

  VII. THE LOVE METER

  VIII. THE VITAL PRINCIPLE

  IX. THE RUBBER DAGGER

  X. THE SUBMARINE MINE

  XI. THE GUN-RUNNER

  XII. THE SUNKEN TREASURE

  I

  THE TREASURE-TRAIN

  "I am not by nature a spy, Professor Kennedy, but--well, sometimes oneis forced into something like that." Maude Euston, who had sought outCraig in his laboratory, was a striking girl, not merely because shewas pretty or because her gown was modish. Perhaps it was her sincerityand artlessness that made her attractive.

  She was the daughter of Barry Euston, president of the ContinentalExpress Company, and one could readily see why, aside from the positionher father held, she should be among the most-sought-after young womenin the city.

  Miss Euston looked straight into Kennedy's eyes as she added, withoutwaiting for him to ask a question:

  "Yesterday I heard something that has made me think a great deal. Youknow, we live at the St. Germaine when we are in town. I've noticed forseveral months past that the lobbies are full of strange,foreign-looking people.

  "Well, yesterday afternoon I was sitting alone in the tea-room of thehotel, waiting for some friends. On the other side of a huge palm Iheard a couple whispering. I have seen the woman about the hotel often,though I know that she doesn't live there. The man I don't rememberever having seen before. They mentioned the name of Granville Barnes,treasurer of father's company--"

  "Is that so?" cut in Kennedy, quickly. "I read the story about him inthe papers this morning."

  As for myself, I was instantly alive with interest, too.

  Granville Barnes had been suddenly stricken while riding in his car inthe country, and the report had it that he was hovering between lifeand death in the General Hospital. The chauffeur had been stricken,too, by the same incomprehensible malady, though apparently not sobadly.

  How the chauffeur managed to save the car was a miracle, but he broughtit to a stop beside the road, where the two were found gasping, aquarter of an hour later, by a passing motorist, who rushed them to adoctor, who had them transferred to the hospital in the city. Neitherof them seemed able or willing to throw any light on what had happened.

  "Just what was it you overheard?" encouraged Kennedy.

  "I heard the man tell the woman," Miss Euston replied, slowly, "thatnow was the chance--when any of the great warring powers would welcomeand wink at any blow that might cripple the other to the slightestdegree. I heard him say something about the Continental ExpressCompany, and that was enough to make me listen, for, you know, father'scompany is handling the big shipments of gold and securities that arecoming here from abroad by way of Halifax. Then I heard her mention thenames of Mr. Barnes and of Mr. Lane, too, the general manager." Shepaused, as though not relishing the idea of having the names bandiedabout. "Last night the--the attack on him--for that is all that I canthink it was--occurred."

  As she stopped again, I could not help thinking what a tale of strangeplotting the casual conversation suggested. New York, I knew, was fullof high-class international crooks and flimflammers who had flockedthere because the great field of their operations in Europe was closed.The war had literally dumped them on us. Was some one using a band ofthese crooks for ulterior purposes? The idea opened up widepossibilities.

  "Of course," Miss Euston continued, "that is all I know; but I think Iam justified in thinking that the two things--the shipment of gold hereand the attack--have some connection. Oh, can't you take up the caseand look into it?"

  She made her appeal so winsomely that it would have been difficult toresist even if it had not promised to prove important.

  "I should be glad to take up the matter," replied Craig, quickly,adding, "if Mr. Barnes will let me."

  "Oh, he must!" she cried. "I haven't spoken to father, but I know thathe would approve of it. I know he thinks I haven't any head forbusiness, just because I wasn't born a boy. I want to prove to him thatI can protect the companies interests. And Mr. Barnes--why, of coursehe will approve."

  She said it with an assurance that made me wonder. It was only thenthat I recollected that it had been one of the excuses for printing herpicture in the society columns of the Star so often that the prettydaughter of the president of the Continental was being ardently wooedby two of the company's younger officials. Granville Barnes himself wasone. The other was Rodman Lane, the young general manager. I wished nowthat I had paid more attention to the society news. Perhaps I shouldhave been in a better position to judge which of them it was whom shereally had chosen. As it was, two questions presented themselves to me.Was it Barnes? And had Barnes really been the victim of an attack--orof an accident?

  Kennedy may have been thinking the problems over, but he gave noevidence of it. He threw on his hat and coat, and was ready in a momentto be driven in Miss Euston's car to the hospital.

  There, after the usual cutting of red tape which only Miss Euston couldhave accomplished, we were led by a white-uniformed nurse through thesilent halls to the private room occupied by Barnes.

  "It's a most peculiar case," whispered the young doctor in charge, aswe paused at the door. "I want you to notice his face and his cough.His pulse seems very weak, almost imperceptible at times. Thestethoscope reveals subcrepitant sounds all over his lungs. It's likebronchitis or pneumonia--but it isn't either."

  We entered. Barnes was lying there almost in a state ofunconsciousness. As we stood watching him he opened his eyes. But hedid not see us. His vision seemed to be riveted on Miss Euston. Hemurmured something that we could not catch, and, as his eyes closedagain, his face seemed to relax into a peaceful expression, as thoughhe were dreaming of something happy.

  Suddenly, however, the old tense lines reappeared. Another idea seemedto have been suggested.

  "Is--Lane--hiring the men--himself?" he murmured.

  The sight of Maude Euston had prompted the thought of his rival, nowwith a clear field. What did it mean? Was he jealous of Lane, or didhis words have a deeper meaning? What difference could it have made ifLane had a free hand in managing the shipment of treasure for thecompany?

  Kennedy looked long and carefully at the face of the sick man. It wasblue and cyanosed still, and his lips had a violet tinge. Barnes hadbeen coughing a great deal. Now and then his mouth was flecked withfoamy blood, which the nurse wiped gently away. Kennedy picked up apiece of the blood-soaked gauze.

  A moment later we withdrew from the room as quietly as we had enteredand tiptoed down the hall, Miss Euston and the young doctor followingus more slowly. As we reached the door, I turned to see where she was.A distinguished-looking elderly gentleman, sitting in the waiting-room,had happened to glance up as she passed and had moved quickly to thehall.

  "What--you here, Maude?" we heard him say.

  "Yes, father. I thought I might be able to do something for Granville."

  She accompanied the remark with a sidelong glance and nod at us, whichKennedy interpreted to mean that we might as well keep in thebackground. Euston himself, far from chiding her, seemed rather to bepleased than otherwise. We could not hear all they said, but onesentence was wafted over.

  "It's most unfortunate, Maude, at just this time. It leaves the wholematter in the
hands of Lane."

  At the mention of Lane, which her father accompanied by a keen glance,she flushed a little and bit her lip. I wondered whether it meant morethan that, of the two suitors, her father obviously preferred Barnes.

  Euston had called to see Barnes, and, as the doctor led him up the hallagain, Miss Euston rejoined us.

  "You need not drive us back," thanked Kennedy. "Just drop us at theSubway. I'll let you know the moment I have arrived at any conclusion."

  On the train we happened to run across a former classmate, Morehead,who had gone into the brokerage business.

  "Queer about that Barnes case, isn't it?" suggested Kennedy, after theusual greetings were over. Then, without suggesting that we were morethan casually interested, "What does the Street think of it?"

  "It is queer," rejoined Morehead. "All the boys down-town are talkingabout it--wondering how it will affect the transit of the goldshipments. I don't know what would happen if there should be a hitch.But they ought to be able to run the thing through all right."

  "It's a pretty ticklish piece of business, then?" I suggested.

  "Well, you know the state of the market just now--a little push one wayor the other means a lot. And I suppose you know that the insiders onthe Street have boosted Continental Express up until it is practicallyone of the 'war stocks,' too. Well, good-by--here's my station."

  We had scarcely returned to the laboratory, however, when a car droveup furiously and a young man bustled in to see us.

  "You do not know me," he introduced, "but I am Rodman Lane, generalmanager of the Continental Express. You know our company has had chargeof the big shipments of gold and securities to New York. I supposeyou've read about what happened to Barnes, our treasurer. I don't knowanything about it--haven't even time to find out. All I know is that itputs more work on me, and I'm nearly crazy already."

  I watched him narrowly.

  "We've had little trouble of any kind so far," he hurried on, "untiljust now I learned that all the roads over which we are likely to sendthe shipments have been finding many more broken rails than usual."

  Kennedy had been following him keenly.

  "I should like to see some samples of them," he observed.

  "You would?" said Lane, eagerly. "I've a couple of sections sawed fromrails down at my office, where I asked the officials to send them."

  We made a hurried trip down to the express company's office. Kennedyexamined the sections of rails minutely with a strong pocket-lens.

  "No ordinary break," he commented. "You can see that it was anexplosive that was used--an explosive well and properly tamped downwith wet clay. Without tamping, the rails would have been bent, notbroken."

  "Done by wreckers, then?" Lane asked.

  "Certainly not defective rails," replied Kennedy. "Still, I don't thinkyou need worry so much about them for the next train. You know what toguard against. Having been discovered, whoever they are, they'llprobably not try it again. It's some new wrinkle that must be guardedagainst."

  It was small comfort, but Craig was accustomed to being brutally frank.

  "Have you taken any other precautions now that you didn't take before?"

  "Yes," replied Lane, slowly; "the railroad has been experimenting withwireless on its trains. We have placed wireless on ours, too. Theycan't cut us off by cutting wires. Then, of course, as before, we shalluse a pilot-train to run ahead and a strong guard on the train itself.But now I feel that there may be something else that we can do. So Ihave come to you."

  "When does the next shipment start?" asked Kennedy.

  "To-morrow, from Halifax."

  Kennedy appeared to be considering something.

  "The trouble," he said, at length, "is likely to be at this end.Perhaps before the train starts something may happen that will tell usjust what additional measures to take as it approaches New York."

  While Kennedy was at work with the blood-soaked gauze that he had takenfrom Barnes, I could do nothing but try to place the relative positionsof the various actors in the little drama that was unfolding. Lanehimself puzzled me. Sometimes I felt almost sure that he knew that MissEuston had come to Kennedy, and that he was trying, in this way, tokeep in touch with what was being done for Barnes.

  Some things I knew already. Barnes was comparatively wealthy, and hadevidently the stamp of approval of Maude Euston's father. As for Lane,he was far from wealthy, although ambitious.

  The company was in a delicate situation where an act of omission wouldcount for as much as an act of commission. Whoever could foresee whatwas going to happen might capitalize that information for much money.If there was a plot and Barnes had been a victim, what was its nature?I recalled Miss Euston's overheard conversation in the tea-room. Bothnames had been mentioned. In short, I soon found myself wonderingwhether some one might not have tempted Lane either to do or not to dosomething.

  "I wish you'd go over to the St. Germaine, Walter," remarked Kennedy,at length, looking up from his work. "Don't tell Miss Euston of Lane'svisit. But ask her if she will keep an eye out for that woman she heardtalking--and the man, too. They may drop in again. And tell her that ifshe hears anything else, no matter how trivial, about Barnes, she mustlet me know."

  I was glad of the commission. Not only had I been unable to arriveanywhere in my conjectures, but it was something even to have a chanceto talk with a girl like Maude Euston.

  Fortunately I found her at home and, though she was rather disappointedthat I had nothing to report, she received me graciously, and we spentthe rest of the evening watching the varied life of the fashionablehostelry in the hope of chancing on the holders of the strangeconversation in the tea-room.

  Once in a while an idea would occur to her of some one who was in aposition to keep her informed if anything further happened to Barnes,and she would despatch a messenger with a little note. Finally, as itgrew late and the adventuress of the tea-room episode seemed unlikelyto favor the St. Germaine with her presence again that night, I made myexcuses, having had the satisfaction only of having delivered Kennedy'smessage, without accomplishing anything more. In fact, I was stillunable to determine whether there was any sentiment stronger thansympathy that prompted her to come to Kennedy about Barnes. As forLane, his name was scarcely mentioned except when it was necessary.

  It was early the next morning that I rejoined Craig at the laboratory.I found him studying the solution which he had extracted from theblood-soaked gauze after first removing the blood in a little distilledwater.

  Before him was his new spectroscope, and I could see that now he wassatisfied with what the uncannily delicate light-detective had toldhim. He pricked his finger and let a drop of blood fall into a littlefresh distilled water, some of which he placed in the spectroscope.

  "Look through it," he said. "Blood diluted with water shows thewell-known dark bands between D and E, known as the oxyhemoglobinabsorption." I looked as he indicated and saw the dark bands. "Now," hewent on, "I add some of this other liquid."

  He picked up a bottle of something with a faint greenish tinge.

  "See the bands gradually fade?"

  I watched, and indeed they did diminish in intensity and finallydisappear, leaving an uninterrupted and brilliant spectrum.

  "My spectroscope," he said, simply, "shows that the blood-crystals ofBarnes are colorless. Barnes was poisoned--by some gas, I think. I wishI had time to hunt along the road where the accident took place." As hesaid it, he walked over and drew from a cabinet several peculiararrangements made of gauze.

  He was about to say something more when there came a knock at the door.Kennedy shoved the gauze arrangements into his pocket and opened it. Itwas Maude Euston, breathless and agitated.

  "Oh, Mr. Kennedy, have you heard?" she cried. "You asked me to keep awatch whether anything more happened to Mr. Barnes. So I asked somefriends of his to let me know of anything. He has a yacht, the SeaGull, which has been lying off City Island. Well, last night thecaptain received a message to go to the hospita
l, that Mr. Barneswanted to see him. Of course it was a fake. Mr. Barnes was too sick tosee anybody on business. But when the captain got back, he found that,on one pretext or another, the crew had been got ashore--and the SeaGull is gone--stolen! Some men in a small boat must have overpoweredthe engineer. Anyhow, she has disappeared. I know that no one couldexpect to steal a yacht--at least for very long. She'd be recognizedsoon. But they must know that, too."

  Kennedy looked at his watch.

  "It is only a few hours since the train started from Halifax," heconsidered. "It will be due in New York early to-morrow morning--twentymillion dollars in gold and thirty millions in securities--a seven-carsteel train, with forty armed guards!"

  "I know it," she said, anxiously, "and I am so afraid something isgoing to happen--ever since I had to play the spy. But what could anyone want with a yacht?"

  Kennedy shrugged his shoulders non-committally.

  "It is one of the things that Mr. Lane must guard against," heremarked, simply. She looked up quickly.

  "Mr. Lane?" she repeated.

  "Yes," replied Kennedy; "the protection of the train has fallen on him.I shall meet the train myself when it gets to Worcester and come in onit. I don't think there can be any danger before it reaches that point."

  "Will Mr. Lane go with you?"

  "He must," decided Kennedy. "That train must be delivered safely herein this city."

  Maude Euston gave Craig one of her penetrating, direct looks.

  "You think there is danger, then?"

  "I cannot say," he replied.

  "Then I am going with you!" she exclaimed.

  Kennedy paused and met her eyes. I do not know whether he read what wasback of her sudden decision. At least I could not, unless there wassomething about Rodman Lane which she wished to have cleared up.Kennedy seemed to read her character and know that a girl like MaudeEuston would be a help in any emergency.

  "Very well," he agreed; "meet us at Mr. Lane's office in half an hour.Walter, see whether you can find Whiting."

  Whiting was one of Kennedy's students with whom he had been latelyconducting some experiments. I hurried out and managed to locate him.

  "What is it you suspect?" I asked, when we returned. "A wreck--somespectacular stroke at the nations that are shipping the gold?"

  "Perhaps," he replied, absently, as he and Whiting hurriedly assembledsome parts of instruments that were on a table in an adjoining room.

  "Perhaps?" I repeated. "What else might there be?"

  "Robbery."

  "Robbery!" I exclaimed. "Of twenty million dollars? Why, man, justconsider the mere weight of the metal!"

  "That's all very well," he replied, warming up a bit as he saw thatWhiting was getting things together quickly. "But it needs only a bitof twenty millions to make a snug fortune--" He paused and straightenedup as the gathering of the peculiar electrical apparatus, whatever itwas, was completed. "And," he went on quickly, "consider the effect onthe stock-market of the news. That's the big thing."

  I could only gasp.

  "A modern train-robbery, planned in the heart of dense traffic!"

  "Why not?" he queried. "Nothing is impossible if you can only take theother fellow unawares. Our job is not to be taken unawares. Are youready, Whiting?"

  "Yes, sir," replied the student, shouldering the apparatus, for which Iwas very thankful, for my arms had frequently ached carrying about someof Kennedy's weird but often weighty apparatus.

  We piled into a taxicab and made a quick journey to the office of theContinental Express. Maude Euston had already preceded us, and we foundher standing by Lane's desk as he paced the floor.

  "Please, Miss Euston, don't go," he was saying as we entered.

  "But I want to go," she persisted, more than ever determined,apparently.

  "I have engaged Professor Kennedy just for the purpose of foreseeingwhat new attack can be made on us," he said.

  "You have engaged Professor Kennedy?" she asked. "I think I have aprior claim there, haven't I?" she appealed.

  Kennedy stood for a moment looking from one to the other. What wasthere in the motives that actuated them? Was it fear, hate, love,jealousy?

  "I can serve my two clients only if they yield to me," Craig remarked,quietly. "Don't set that down, Whiting. Which is it--yes or no?"

  Neither Lane nor Miss Euston looked at each other for a moment.

  "Is it in my hands?" repeated Craig.

  "Yes," bit off Lane, sourly.

  "And you, Miss Euston?"

  "Of course," she answered.

  "Then we all go," decided Craig. "Lane, may I install this thing inyour telegraph-room outside?"

  "Anything you say," Lane returned, unmollified.

  Whiting set to work immediately, while Kennedy gave him the finalinstructions.

  Neither Lane nor Miss Euston spoke a word, even when I left the roomfor a moment, fearing that three was a crowd. I could not helpwondering whether she might not have heard something more from thewoman in the tea-room conversation than she had told us. If she had,she had been more frank with Lane than with us. She must have told him.Certainly she had not told us. It was the only way I could account forthe armed truce that seemed to exist as, hour after hour, our traincarried us nearer the point where we were to meet the treasure-train.

  At Worcester we had still a long wait for the argosy that was causingso much anxiety and danger. It was long after the time scheduled thatwe left finally, on our return journey, late at night.

  Ahead of us went a dummy pilot-train to be sacrificed if any bridges ortrestles were blown up or if any new attempts were made at producingartificially broken rails. We four established ourselves as best wecould in a car in the center of the treasure-train, with one of thearmed guards as company. Mile after mile we reeled off, ever southwardand westward.

  We must have crossed the State of Connecticut and have been approachingLong Island Sound, when suddenly the train stopped with a jerk.Ordinarily there is nothing to grow alarmed about at the mere stoppingof a train. But this was an unusual train under unusual circumstances.

  No one said a word as we peered out. Down the track the signals seemedto show a clear road. What was the matter?

  "Look!" exclaimed Kennedy, suddenly.

  Off a distance ahead I could see what looked like a long row of whitefuses sticking up in the faint starlight. From them the fresh west windseemed to blow a thick curtain of greenish-yellow smoke which sweptacross the track, enveloping the engine and the forward cars and nowadvancing toward us like the "yellow wind" of northern China. It seemedto spread thickly on the ground, rising scarcely more than sixteen oreighteen feet.

  A moment and the cloud began to fill the air about us. There was aparalyzing odor. I looked about at the others, gasping and coughing. Asthe cloud rolled on, inexorably increasing in density, it seemedliterally to grip the lungs.

  It flashed over me that already the engineer and fireman had beenovercome, though not before the engineer had been able to stop thetrain.

  As the cloud advanced, the armed guards ran from it, shouting, one nowand then falling, overcome. For the moment none of us knew what to do.Should we run and desert the train for which we had dared so much? Tostay was death.

  Quickly Kennedy pulled from his pocket the gauze arrangements he hadhad in his hand that morning just as Miss Euston's knock hadinterrupted his conversation with me. Hurriedly he shoved one into MissEuston's hands, then to Lane, then to me, and to the guard who was withus.

  "Wet them!" he cried, as he fitted his own over his nose and staggeredto a water-cooler.

  "What is it?" I gasped, hoarsely, as we all imitated his every action.

  "Chlorin gas," he rasped back, "the same gas that overcame GranvilleBarnes. These masks are impregnated with a glycerin solution of sodiumphosphate. It was chlorin that destroyed the red coloring matter inBarnes's blood. No wonder, when this action of just a whiff of it on usis so rapid. Even a short time longer and death would follow. Itdestroys withou
t the possibility of reconstitution, and it leaves adangerous deposit of albumin. How do you feel?"

  "All right," I lied.

  We looked out again. The things that looked like fuses were not bombs,as I had expected, but big reinforced bottles of gas compressed at highpressure, with the taps open. The supply was not inexhaustible. Infact, it was decidedly limited. But it seemed to have been calculatedto a nicety to do the work. Only the panting of the locomotive nowbroke the stillness as Kennedy and I moved forward along the track.

  Crack! rang out a shot.

  "Get on the other side of the train--quick!" ordered Craig.

  In the shadow, aside from the direction in which the wind was waftingthe gas, we could now just barely discern a heavy but powerfulmotor-truck and figures moving about it. As I peered out from theshelter of the train, I realized what it all meant. The truck, whichhad probably conveyed the gas-tanks from the rendezvous where they hadbeen collected, was there now to convey to some dark wharf what of thetreasure could be seized. There the stolen yacht was waiting to carryit off.

  "Don't move--don't fire," cautioned Kennedy. "Perhaps they will thinkit was only a shadow they saw. Let them act first. They must. Theyhaven't any too much time. Let them get impatient."

  For some minutes we waited.

  Sure enough, separated widely, but converging toward the treasure-trainat last, we could see several dark figures making their way from theroad across a strip of field and over the rails. I made a move with mygun.

  "Don't," whispered Kennedy. "Let them get together."

  His ruse was clever. Evidently they thought that it had been indeed awraith at which they had fired. Swiftly now they hurried to the nearestof the gold-laden cars. We could hear them, breaking in where theguards had either been rendered unconscious or had fled.

  I looked around at Maude Euston. She was the calmest of us all as shewhispered:

  "They are in the car. Can't we DO something?"

  "Lane," whispered Kennedy, "crawl through under the trucks with me.Walter, and you, Dugan," he added, to the guard, "go down the otherside. We must rush them--in the car."

  As Kennedy crawled under the train again I saw Maude Euston follow Laneclosely.

  How it happened I cannot describe, for the simple reason that I don'tremember. I know that it was a short, sharp dash, that the fight was afight of fists in which guns were discharged wildly in the air againstthe will of the gunner. But from the moment when Kennedy's voice rangout in the door, "Hands up!" to the time that I saw that we had therobbers lined up with their backs against the heavy cases of theprecious metal for which they had planned and risked so much, it is ablank of grim death-struggle.

  I remember my surprise at seeing one of them a woman, and I thought Imust be mistaken. I looked about. No; there was Maude Euston standingjust beside Lane.

  I think it must have been that which recalled me and made me realizethat it was a reality and not a dream. The two women stood glaring ateach other.

  "The woman in the tea-room!" exclaimed Miss Euston. "It was aboutthis--robbery--then, that I heard you talking the other afternoon."

  I looked at the face before me. It was, had been, a handsome face. Butnow it was cold and hard, with that heartless expression of theadventuress. The men seemed to take their plight hard. But, as shelooked into the clear, gray eyes of the other woman, the adventuressseemed to gain rather than lose in defiance.

  "Robbery?" she repeated, bitterly. "This is only a beginning."

  "A beginning. What do you mean?"

  It was Lane who spoke. Slowly she turned toward him.

  "You know well enough what I mean."

  The implication that she intended was clear. She had addressed theremark to him, but it was a stab at Maude Euston.

  "I know only what you wanted me to do--and I refused. Is there morestill?"

  I wondered whether Lane could really have been involved.

  "Quick--what DO you mean?" demanded Kennedy, authoritatively.

  The woman turned to him:

  "Suppose this news of the robbery is out? What will happen? Do you wantme to tell you, young lady?" she added, turning again to Maude Euston."I'll tell you. The stock of the Continental Express Company will falllike a house of cards. And then? Those who have sold it at the topprice will buy it back again at the bottom. The company is sound. Thedepression will not last--perhaps will be over in a day, a week, amonth. Then the operators can send it up again. Don't you see? It isthe old method of manipulation in a new form. It is a war-stock gamble.Other stocks will be affected the same way. This is our reward--what wecan get out of it by playing this game for which the materials arefurnished free. We have played it--and lost. The manipulators will gettheir reward on the stock-market this morning. But they must stillreckon with us--even if we have lost." She said it with a sort of grimhumor.

  "And you have put Granville Barnes out of the way, first?" I asked,remembering the chlorin. She laughed shrilly.

  "That was an accident--his own carelessness. He was carrying a tank ofit for us. Only his chauffeur's presence of mind in throwing it intothe shrubbery by the road saved his life and reputation. No, young man;he was one of the manipulators, too. But the chief of them was--" Shepaused as if to enjoy one brief moment of triumph at least. "Thepresident of the company," she added.

  "No, no, no!" cried Maude Euston.

  "Yes, yes, yes! He does not dare deny it. They were all in it."

  "Mrs. Labret--you lie!" towered Lane, in a surging passion, as hestepped forward and shook his finger at her. "You lie and you know it.There is an old saying about the fury of a woman scorned." She paid noattention to him whatever.

  "Maude Euston," she hissed, as though Lane had been as inarticulate asthe boxes of gold about, "you have saved your lover'sreputation--perhaps. At least the shipment is safe. But you have ruinedyour father. The deal will go through. Already that has been arranged.You may as well tell Kennedy to let us go and let the thing go through.It involves more than us."

  Kennedy had been standing back a bit, carefully keeping them allcovered. He glanced a moment out of the corner of his eye at MaudeEuston, but said nothing.

  It was a terrible situation. Had Lane really been in it? That questionwas overshadowed by the mention of her father. Impulsively she turnedto Craig.

  "Oh, save him!" she cried. "Can't anything be done to save my father inspite of himself?"

  "It is too late," mocked Mrs. Labret. "People will read the account ofthe robbery in the papers, even if it didn't take place. They will seeit before they see a denial. Orders will flood in to sell the stock.No; it can't be stopped."

  Kennedy glanced momentarily at me.

  "Is there still time to catch the last morning edition of the Star,Walter?" he asked, quietly. I glanced at my watch.

  "We may try. It's possible."

  "Write a despatch--an accident to the engine--train delayed--nowproceeding--anything. Here, Dugan, you keep them covered. Shoot to killif there's a move."

  Kennedy had begun feverishly setting up the part of the apparatus whichhe had brought after Whiting had set up his.

  "What can you do?" hissed Mrs. Labret. "You can't get word through.Orders have been issued that the telegraph operators are under nocircumstances to give out news about this train. The wireless is out ofcommission, too--the operator overcome. The robbery story has beenprepared and given out by this time. Already reporters are beingassigned to follow it up."

  I looked over at Kennedy. If orders had been given for such secrecy byBarry Euston, how could my despatch do any good? It would be held backby the operators.

  Craig quickly slung a wire over those by the side of the track andseized what I had written, sending furiously.

  "What are you doing?" I asked. "You heard what she said."

  "One thing you can be certain of," he answered, "that despatch cannever be stolen or tapped by spies."

  "Why--what is this?" I asked, pointing to the instrument.

  "The invention of
Major Squier, of the army," he replied, "by which anynumber of messages may be sent at the same time over the same wirewithout the slightest conflict. Really it consists in making wirelesselectric waves travel along, instead of inside, the wire. In otherwords, he had discovered the means of concentrating the energy of awireless wave on a given point instead of letting it riot all over theface of the earth.

  "It is the principle of wireless. But in ordinary wireless less thanone-millionth part of the original sending force reaches the point forwhich it is intended. The rest is scattered through space in alldirections. If the vibrations of a current are of a certain number persecond, the current will follow a wire to which it is, as it were,attached, instead of passing off into space.

  "All the energy in wireless formerly wasted in radiation in everydirection now devotes itself solely to driving the current through theether about the wire. Thus it goes until it reaches the point whereWhiting is--where the vibrations correspond to its own and are in tune.There it reproduces the sending impulse. It is wired wireless."

  Craig had long since finished sending his wired wireless message. Wewaited impatiently. The seconds seemed to drag like hours.

  Far off, now, we could hear a whistle as a train finally approachedslowly into our block, creeping up to see what was wrong. But that madeno difference now. It was not any help they could give us that wewanted. A greater problem, the saving of one man's name and there-establishment of another, confronted us.

  Unexpectedly the little wired wireless instrument before us began tobuzz. Quickly Kennedy seized a pencil and wrote as the message that nohand of man could interfere with was flashed back to us.

  "It is for you, Walter, from the Star," he said, simply handing me whathe had written on the back of an old envelope.

  I read, almost afraid to read:

  Robbery story killed. Black type across page-head last edition,"Treasure-train safe!" McGRATH.

  "Show it to Miss Euston," Craig added, simply, gathering up his wiredwireless set, just as the crew from the train behind us ran up. "Shemay like to know that she has saved her father from himself throughmisunderstanding her lover."

  I thought Maude Euston would faint as she clutched the message. Lanecaught her as she reeled backward.

  "Rodman--can you--forgive me?" she murmured, simply, yielding to himand looking up into his face.