The Exploits of Elaine

by Arthur B. Reeve

  CHAPTER IV

  "THE FROZEN SAFE"

  Kennedy swung open the door of our taxicab as we pulled up, safe atlast, before the Dodge mansion, after the rescue of Elaine from thebrutal machinations of the Clutching Hand.

  Bennett was on the step of the cab in a moment and, together, one oneach side of Elaine, they assisted her out of the car and up the stepsto the house.

  As they mounted the steps, Kennedy called back to me, "Pay the driver,Walter, please."

  It was the first time I had thought of that. As it happened, I hadquite a bankroll with me and, in my hurry, I peeled off a ten dollarbill and tossed it to the fellow, intending to be generous and tell himto keep the change.

  "Say," he exclaimed, pointing to the clock, "come across--twenty-three,sixty."

  Protesting, I peeled off some more bills.

  Having satisfied this veritable anaconda and gorged his dilatingappetite for banknotes, I turned to follow the others. Jennings hadopened the door immediately. Whether it was that he retained a grudgeagainst me or whether he did not see me, he would have closed it beforeI could get up there. I called and took the steps two at a time.

  Elaine's Aunt Josephine was waiting for us in the drawing room, verymuch worried. The dear old lady was quite scandalized as Elaineexcitedly told of the thrilling events that had just taken place.

  "And to think they--actually--carried you!" she exclaimed, horrified,adding, "And I not--"

  "But Mr. Kennedy came along and saved me just in time," interruptedElaine with a smile. "I was well chaperoned!"

  Aunt Josephine turned to Craig gratefully. "How can I ever thank youenough, Mr. Kennedy," she said fervently.

  Kennedy was quite embarrassed. With a smile, Elaine perceived hisdiscomfiture, not at all displeased by it.

  "Come into the library," she cried gaily, taking his arm. "I'vesomething to show you."

  Where the old safe which had been burnt through had stood was now abrand new safe of the very latest construction and design--one of thosethat look and are so formidable.

  "Here is the new safe," she pointed out brightly. "It is not only proofagainst explosives, but between the plates is a lining that is proofagainst thermit and even that oxy-acetylene blowpipe by which yourescued me from the old boiler. It has a time lock, too, that willprevent its being opened at night, even if anyone should learn thecombination."

  They stood before the safe a moment and Kennedy examined it closelywith much interest.

  "Wonderful!" he admired.

  "I knew you'd approve of it," cried Elaine, much pleased. "Now I havesomething else to show you."

  She paused at the desk and from a drawer took out a portfolio of largephotographs. They were very handsome photographs of herself.

  "Much more wonderful than the safe," remarked Craig earnestly. Then,hesitating and a trifle embarrassed, he added, "May I--may I have one?"

  "If you care for it," she said, dropping her eyes, then glancing up athim quickly.

  "Care for it?" he repeated. "It will be one of the greatest treasures."

  She slipped the picture quickly into an envelope. "Come," sheinterrupted. "Aunt Josephine will be wondering where we are. She--she'sa demon chaperone."

  Bennett, Aunt Josephine and myself were talking earnestly as Elaine andCraig returned.

  "Well," said Bennett, glancing at his watch and rising as he turned toElaine, "I'm afraid I must go, now."

  He crossed over to where she stood and shook hands. There was no doubtthat Bennett was very much smitten by his fair client.

  "Good-bye, Mr. Bennett," she murmured, "and thank you so much for whatyou have done for me today."

  But there was something lifeless about the words. She turned quickly toCraig, who had remained standing.

  "Must you go, too, Mr. Kennedy?" she asked, noticing his position.

  "I'm afraid Mr. Jameson and I must be back on the job before thisClutching Hand gets busy again," he replied reluctantly.

  "Oh, I hope you--we get him soon!" she exclaimed, and there was nothinglifeless about the way she gave Craig her hand, as Bennett, he and Ileft a moment later.

  . . . . . . . .

  That morning I had noticed Kennedy fussing some time at the door of ourapartment before we went over to the laboratory. As nearly as I couldmake out he had placed something under the rug at the door out into thehallway.

  When we approached our door, now, Craig paused. By pressing a littleconcealed button he caused a panel in the wall outside to loosen,disclosing a small, boxlike plate in the wall underneath.

  It was about a foot long and perhaps four inches wide. Through it ran apiece of paper which unrolled from one coil and wound up on another,actuated by clockwork. Across the blank white paper ran an ink linetraced by a stylographic pen, such as I had seen in mechanical pencilsused in offices, hotels, banks and such places.

  Kennedy examined the thing with interest.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "A new seismograph," he replied, still gazing carefully at the rolledup part of the paper. "I have installed it because it registers everyfootstep on the floor of our apartment. We can't be too careful withthis Clutching Hand. I want to know whether we have any visitors or notin our absence. This straight line indicates that we have not. Wait amoment."

  Craig hastily unlocked the door and entered. Inside, I could see himpacing up and down our modest quarters.

  "Do you see anything, Walter?" he called.

  I looked at the seismograph. The pen had started to trace its line, nolonger even and straight, but zigzag, at different heights across thepaper.

  He came to the door. "What do you think of it?" he inquired.

  "Splendid idea," I answered enthusiastically.

  Our apartment was, as I have said, modest, consisting of a large livingroom, two bedrooms, and bath--an attractive but not ornate place, whichwe found very cosy and comfortable. On one side of the room was a bigfire place, before which stood a fire screen. We had collected easychairs and capacious tables and desks. Books were scattered about,literally overflowing from the crowded shelves. On the walls were ourfavorite pictures, while for ornament, I suppose I might mention mytypewriter and now and then some of Craig's wonderful scientificapparatus as satisfying our limited desire for the purely aesthetic.

  We entered and fell to work at the aforementioned typewriter, on aspecial Sunday story that I had been forced to neglect. I was not sobusy, however, that I did not notice out of the corner of my eye thatKennedy had taken from its cover Elaine Dodge's picture and was gazingat it ravenously.

  I put my hand surreptitiously over my mouth and coughed. Kennedywheeled on me and I hastily banged a sentence out on the machine,making at least half a dozen mistakes.

  I had finished as much of the article as I could do then and wassmoking and reading it over. Kennedy was still gazing at the pictureMiss Dodge had given him, then moving from place to place about theroom, evidently wondering where it would look best. I doubt whether hehad done another blessed thing since we returned.

  He tried it on the mantel. That wouldn't do. At last he held it upbeside a picture of Galton, I think, of finger print and eugenics fame,who hung on the wall directly opposite the fireplace. Hastily hecompared the two. Elaine's picture was of precisely the same size.

  Next he tore out the picture of the scientist and threw it carelesslyinto the fireplace. Then he placed Elaine's picture in its place andhung it up again, standing off to admire it.

  I watched him gleefully. Was this Craig? Purposely I moved my elbowsuddenly and pushed a book with a bang on the floor. Kennedy actuallyjumped. I picked up the book with a muttered apology. No, this was notthe same old Craig.

  Perhaps half an hour later, I was still reading. Kennedy was now pacingup and down the room, apparently unable to concentrate his mind on anybut one subject.

  He stopped a moment before the photograph, looked at it fixedly. Thenhe started his methodical walk again, hesitated, and went
over to thetelephone, calling a number which I recognized.

  "She must have been pretty well done up by her experience," he saidapologetically, catching my eye. "I was wondering if--Hello--oh, MissDodge--I--er--I--er--just called up to see if you were all right."

  Craig was very much embarrassed, but also very much in earnest.

  A musical laugh rippled over the telephone. "Yes, I'm all right, thankyou, Mr. Kennedy--and I put the package you sent me into the safe,but--"

  "Package?" frowned Craig. "Why, I sent you no package, Miss Dodge. Inthe safe?"

  "Why, yes, and the safe is all covered with moisture--and so cold."

  "Moisture--cold?" he repeated quickly.

  "Yes, I have been wondering if it is all right. In fact, I was going tocall you up, only I was afraid you'd think I was foolish."

  "I shall be right over," he answered hastily, clapping the receiverback on its hook. "Walter," he added, seizing his hat and coat, "comeon--hurry!"

  A few minutes later we drove up in a taxi before the Dodge house andrang the bell.

  Jennings admitted us sleepily.

  . . . . . . . .

  It could not have been long after we left Miss Dodge late in theafternoon that Susie Martin, who had been quite worried over our longabsence after the attempt to rob her father, dropped in on Elaine.Wide-eyed, she had listened to Elaine's story of what had happened.

  "And you think this Clutching Hand has never recovered theincriminating papers that caused him to murder your father?" askedSusie.

  Elaine shook her head. "No. Let me show you the new safe I've bought.Mr. Kennedy thinks it wonderful."

  "I should think you'd be proud of it," admired Susie. "I must tellfather to get one, too."

  At that very moment, if they had known it, the Clutching Hand with hissinister, masked face, was peering at the two girls from the other sideof the portieres.

  Susie rose to go and Elaine followed her to the door. No sooner had shegone than the Clutching Hand came out from behind the curtains. Hegazed about a moment, then moving over to the safe about which the twogirls had been talking, stealthily examined it.

  He must have heard someone coming, for, with a gesture of hate at thesafe itself, as though he personified it, he slipped back of thecurtains again.

  Elaine had returned and as she sat down at the desk to go over somepapers which Bennett had left relative to settling up the estate, themasked intruder stealthily and silently withdrew.

  "A package for you, Miss Dodge," announced Michael later in the eveningas Elaine, in her dainty evening gown, was still engaged in going overthe papers. He carried it in his hands rather gingerly.

  "Mr. Kennedy sent it, ma'am. He says it contains clues and will youplease put it in the new safe for him."

  Elaine took the package eagerly and examined it. Then she pulled openthe heavy door of the safe.

  "It must be getting cold out, Michael," she remarked. "This package isas cold as ice."

  "It is, ma'am," answered Michael, deferentially with a sidelong glancethat did not prevent his watching her intently.

  She closed the safe and, with a glance at her watch, set the time lockand went upstairs to her room.

  No sooner had Elaine disappeared than Michael appeared again, cat-like,through the curtains from the drawing room, and, after a glance aboutthe dimly lighted library, discovering that the coast was clear,motioned to a figure hiding behind the portieres.

  A moment, and Clutching Hand himself came out.

  He moved over to the safe and looked it over. Then he put out his handand touched it.

  "Good, Michael," he exclaimed with satisfaction.

  "Listen!" cautioned Michael.

  Someone was coming and they hastily slunk behind the protectingportieres. It was Marie, Elaine's maid.

  She turned up the lights and went over to the desk for a book for whichElaine had evidently sent her. She paused and appeared to be listening.Then she went to the door.

  "Jennings!" she beckoned.

  "What is it, Marie?" he replied.

  She said nothing, but as he came up the hall led him to the center ofthe room.

  "Listen! I heard sighs and groans!"

  Jennings looked at her a moment, puzzled, then laughed. "You girls!" heexclaimed. "I suppose you'll always think the library haunted, now."

  "But, Jennings, listen," she persisted.

  Jennings did listen. Sure enough, there were sounds, weird, uncanny. Hegazed about the room. It was eerie. Then he took a few steps toward thesafe. Marie put out her hand to it, and started back.

  "Why, that safe is all covered with cold sweat!" she cried with batedbreath.

  Sure enough the face of the safe was beaded with dampness. Jennings puthis hand on it and quickly drew it away, leaving a mark on the dampness.

  "Wh-what do you think of that?" he gasped.

  "I'm going to tell Miss Dodge," cried Marie, genuinely frightened.

  A moment later she burst into Elaine's room.

  "What is the matter, Marie?" asked Elaine, laying down her book. "Youlook as if you had seen a ghost."

  "Ah, but, mademoiselle--it ees just like that. The safe--ifmademoiselle will come downstairs, I will show it you."

  Puzzled but interested, Elaine followed her. In the library Jenningspointed mutely at the new safe. Elaine approached it. As they stoodabout new beads of perspiration, as it were, formed on it. Elainetouched it, and also quickly withdrew her hand.

  "I can't imagine what's the matter," she said. "But--well--Jennings,you may go--and Marie, also."

  When the servants had gone she still regarded the safe with the samewondering look, then turning out the light, she followed.

  She had scarcely disappeared when, from the portiered doorway nearby,the Clutching Hand appeared, and, after gazing out at them, took aquick look at the safe.

  "Good!" he muttered.

  Noiselessly Michael of the sinister face moved in and took a positionin the center of the room, as if on guard, while Clutching Hand satbefore the safe watching it intently.

  "Someone at the door--Jennings is answering the bell," Michaelwhispered hoarsely.

  "Confound it!" muttered Clutching Hand, as both moved again behind theheavy velour curtains.

  . . . . . . . .

  "I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Kennedy," greeted Elaine unaffectedly asJennings admitted us.

  She had heard the bell and was coming downstairs as we entered. Wethree moved toward the library and someone switched on the lights.

  Craig strode over to the safe. The cold sweat on it had now turned toicicles. Craig's face clouded with thought as he examined it moreclosely. There was actually a groaning sound from within.

  "It can't be opened," he said to himself. "The time lock is set fortomorrow morning."

  Outside, if we had not been so absorbed in the present mystery, wemight have seen Michael and the Clutching Hand listening to us.Clutching Hand looked hastily at his watch.

  "The deuce!" he muttered under his breath, stifling his suppressed fury.

  We stood looking at the safe. Kennedy was deeply interested, Elainestanding close beside him. Suddenly he seemed to make up his mind.

  "Quick--Elaine!" he cried, taking her arm. "Stand back!"

  We all retreated. The safe door, powerful as it was, had actually begunto warp and bend. The plates were bulging. A moment later, with a loudreport and concussion the door blew off.

  A blast of cold air and flakes like snow flew out. Papers werescattered on every side.

  We stood gazing, aghast, a second, then ran forward. Kennedy quicklyexamined the safe. He bent down and from the wreck took up a package,now covered with white.

  As quickly he dropped it.

  "That is the package that was sent," cried Elaine.

  Taking it in a table cover, he laid it on the table and opened it.Inside was a peculiar shaped flask, open at the top, but like a vacuumbottle.

  "A D
ewar flask!" ejaculated Craig.

  "What is it?" asked Elaine, appealing to him.

  "Liquid air!" he answered. "As it evaporated, the terrific pressure ofexpanding air in the safe increased until it blew out the door. That iswhat caused the cold sweating and the groans."

  We watched him, startled.

  On the other side of the portieres Michael and Clutching Hand waited.Then, in the general confusion, Clutching Hand slowly disappeared,foiled.

  "Where did this package come from?" asked Kennedy of Jenningssuspiciously.

  Jennings looked blank.

  "Why," put in Elaine, "Michael brought it to me."

  "Get Michael," ordered Kennedy.

  "Yes, sir," nodded Jennings.

  A moment later he returned. "I found him, going upstairs," reportedJennings, leading Michael in.

  "Where did you get this package?" shot out Kennedy.

  "It was left at the door, sir, by a boy, sir."

  Question after question could not shake that simple, stolid sentence.Kennedy frowned.

  "You may go," he said finally, as if reserving something for Michaellater.

  A sudden exclamation followed from Elaine as Michael passed down thehall again. She had moved over to the desk, during the questioning, andwas leaning against it.

  Inadvertently she had touched an envelope. It was addressed, "CraigKennedy."

  Craig tore it open, Elaine bending anxiously over his shoulder,frightened.

  We read:

  "YOU HAVE INTERFERED FOR THE LAST TIME. IT IS THE END."

  Beneath it stood the fearsome sign of the Clutching Hand!

  . . . . . . . .

  The warning of the Clutching Hand had no other effect on Kennedy thanthe redoubling of his precautions for safety. Nothing further happenedthat night, however, and the next morning found us early at thelaboratory.

  It was the late forenoon, when after a hurried trip down to the office,I rejoined Kennedy at his scientific workshop.

  We walked down the street when a big limousine shot past. Kennedystopped in the middle of a remark. He had recognized the car, with asort of instinct.

  At the same moment I saw a smiling face at the window of the car. Itwas Elaine Dodge.

  The car stopped in something less than twice its length and then backedtoward us.

  Kennedy, hat off, was at the window in a moment. There were AuntJosephine, and Susie Martin, also.

  "Where are you boys going?" asked Elaine, with interest, then addedwith a gaiety that ill concealed her real anxiety, "I'm so glad to seeyou--to see that--er--nothing has happened from that dreadful ClutchingHand."

  "Why, we were just going up to our rooms," replied Kennedy.

  "Can't we drive you around?"

  We climbed in and a moment later were off. The ride was only too shortfor Kennedy. We stepped out in front of our apartment and stoodchatting for a moment.

  "Some day I want to show you the laboratory," Craig was saying.

  "It must be so--interesting!" exclaimed Elaine enthusiastically. "Thinkof all the bad men you must have caught!"

  "I have quite a collection of stuff here at our rooms," remarked Craig,"almost a museum. Still," he ventured, "I can't promise that the placeis in order," he laughed.

  Elaine hesitated. "Would you like to see it?" she wheedled of AuntJosephine.

  Aunt Josephine nodded acquiescence, and a moment later we all enteredthe building.

  "You--you are very careful since that last warning?" asked Elaine as weapproached our door.

  "More than ever--now," replied Craig. "I have made up my mind to win."

  She seemed to catch at the words as though they had a hidden meaning,looking first at him and then away, not displeased.

  Kennedy had started to unlock the door, when he stopped short.

  "See," he said, "this is a precaution I have just installed. I almostforgot in the excitement."

  He pressed a panel and disclosed the box-like apparatus.

  "This is my seismograph which tells me whether I have had any visitorsin my absence. If the pen traces a straight line, it is, all right; butif--hello--Walter, the line is wavy."

  We exchanged a significant glance.

  "Would you mind--er--standing down the hall just a bit while I enter?"asked Craig.

  "Be careful," cautioned Elaine.

  He unlocked the door, standing off to one side. Then he extended hishand across the doorway. Still nothing happened. There was not a sound.He looked cautiously into the room. Apparently there was nothing.

  . . . . . . . .

  It had been about the middle of the morning that an express wagon hadpulled up sharply before our apartment.

  "Mr. Kennedy live here?" asked one of the expressmen, descending withhis helper and approaching our janitor, Jens Jensen, a typical Swede,who was coming up out of the basement.

  Jens growled a surly, "Yes--but Mr. Kannady, he bane out."

  "Too bad--we've got this large cabinet he ordered from Grand Rapids. Wecan't cart it around all day. Can't you let us in so we can leave it?"

  Jensen muttered. "Wall--I guess it bane all right."

  They took the cabinet off the wagon and carried it upstairs. Jensenopened our door, still grumbling, and they placed the heavy cabinet inthe living room.

  "Sign here."

  "You fallers bane a nuisance," protested Jens, signing nevertheless.

  Scarcely had the sound ox their footfalls died away in the outsidehallway when the door of the cabinet slowly opened and a masked faceprotruded, gazing about the room.

  It was the Clutching Hand!

  From the cabinet he took a large package wrapped in newspapers. As heheld it, looking keenly about, his eye rested on Elaine's picture. Amoment he looked at it, then quickly at the fireplace opposite.

  An idea seemed to occur to him. He took the package to the fireplace,removed the screen, and laid the package over the andirons with one endpointing out into the room.

  Next he took from the cabinet a couple of storage batteries and a coilof wire. Deftly and quickly he fixed them on the package.

  Meanwhile, before an alleyway across the street and further down thelong block the express wagon had stopped. The driver and his helperclambered out and for a moment stood talking in low tones, with covertglances at our apartment. They moved into the alley and the driver drewout a battered pair of opera glasses, levelling them at our windows.

  Having completed fixing the batteries and wires, Clutching Hand ran thewires along the moulding on the wall overhead, from the fireplace untilhe was directly over Elaine's picture. Skillfully, he managed to fixthe wires, using them in place of the picture wires to support theframed photograph. Then he carefully moved the photograph until it hungvery noticeably askew on the wall.

  The last wire joined, he looked about the room, then noiselessly movedto the window and raised the shade.

  Quickly he raised his hand and brought the fingers slowly together. Itwas the sign.

  Off in the alley, the express driver and his helper were still gazingup through the opera glass.

  "What d'ye see, Bill?" he asked, handing over the glass.

  The other took it and looked. "It's him--the Hand, Jack," whispered thehelper, handing the glasses back.

  They jumped into the wagon and away it rattled.

  Jensen was smoking placidly as the wagon pulled up the second time.

  "Sorry," said the driver sheepishly, "but we delivered the cabinet tothe wrong Mr. Kennedy."

  He pulled out the inevitable book to prove it.

  "Wall, you bane fine fallers," growled Jensen, puffing like a furnace,in his fury. "You cannot go up agane."

  "We'll get fired for the mistake," pleaded the helper.

  "Just this once," urged the driver, as he rattled some loose change inhis pocket. "Here--there goes a whole day's tips."

  He handed Jens a dollar in small change.

  Still grumpy but mollified b
y the silver Jens let them go up and openedthe door to our rooms again. There stood the cabinet, as outwardlyinnocent as when it came in.

  Lugging and tugging they managed to get the heavy piece of furnitureout and downstairs again, loading it on the wagon. Then they drove offwith it, accompanied by a parting volley from Jensen.

  In an unfrequented street, perhaps half a mile away, the wagon stopped.With a keen glance around, the driver and his helper made sure that noone was about.

  "Such a shaking up as you've given me!" growled a voice as the cabinetdoor opened. "But I've got him this time!"

  It was the Clutching Hand.

  "There, men, you can leave me here," he ordered.

  He motioned to them to drive off and, as they did so, pulled off hismasking handkerchief and dived into a narrow street leading up to athoroughfare.

  . . . . . . . .

  Craig gazed into our living room cautiously.

  "I can't see anything wrong," he said to me as I stood just beside him."Miss Dodge," he added, "will you and the rest excuse me if I ask youto wait just a moment longer?"

  Elaine watched him, fascinated. He crossed the room, then went intoeach of our other rooms. Apparently nothing was wrong and a minutelater he reappeared at the doorway.

  "I guess it's all right," he said. "Perhaps it was only Jensen, thejanitor."

  Elaine, Aunt Josephine and Susie Martin entered. Craig placed chairsfor them, but still I could see that he was uneasy. From time to time,while they were admiring one of our treasures after another, he glancedabout suspiciously. Finally he moved over to a closet and flung thedoor open, ready for anything. No one was in the closet and he closedit hastily.

  "What is the trouble, do you think?" asked Elaine wonderingly, noticinghis manner.

  "I--I can't just say," answered Craig, trying to appear easy.

  She had risen and with keen interest was looking at the books, thepictures, the queer collection of weapons and odds and ends from theunderworld that Craig had amassed in his adventures.

  At last her eye wandered across the room. She caught sight of her ownpicture, occupying a place of honor--but hanging askew.

  "Isn't that just like a man!" she exclaimed laughingly. "Suchhousekeepers as you are--such carelessness!"

  She had taken a step or two across the room to straighten the picture.

  "Miss Dodge!" almost shouted Kennedy, his face fairly blanched, "Stop!"

  She turned, her stunning eyes filled with amazement at his suddenness.Nevertheless she moved quickly to one side, as he waved his arms,unable to speak quickly enough.

  Kennedy stood quite still, gazing at the picture, askew, with suspicion.

  "That wasn't that way when we left, was it, Walter?" he asked.

  "It certainly was not," I answered positively, "There was more timespent in getting that picture just right than I ever saw you spend onall the rest of the room."

  Craig frowned.

  As for myself, I did not know what to make of it.

  "I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to step into this back room," saidCraig at length to the ladies. "I'm sorry--but we can't be too carefulwith this intruder, whoever he was."

  They rose, surprised, but, as he continued to urge them, they movedinto my room.

  Elaine, however, stopped at the door.

  For a moment Kennedy appeared to be considering. Then his eye fell on afishing rod that stood in a corner. He took it and moved toward thepicture.

  On his hands and knees, to one side, down as close as he could get tothe floor, with the rod extended at arm's length, he motioned to me todo the same, behind him.

  Elaine, unable to repress her interest took a half step forward,breathless, from the doorway, while Susie Martin and Aunt Josephinestood close behind her.

  Carefully Kennedy reached out with the pole and straightened thepicture.

  As he did so there was a flash, a loud, deafening report, and a greatpuff of smoke from the fireplace.

  The fire screen was riddled and overturned. A charge of buckshotshattered the precious photograph of Elaine.

  We had dropped flat on the floor at the report. I looked about. Kennedywas unharmed, and so were the rest.

  With a bound he was at the fireplace, followed by Elaine and the restof us. There, in what remained of a package done up roughly innewspaper, was a shot gun with its barrel sawed off about six inchesfrom the lock, fastened to a block of wood, and connected to a seriesof springs on the trigger, released by a little electromagneticarrangement actuated by two batteries and leading by wires up along themoulding to the picture where the slightest touch would complete thecircuit.

  The newspapers which were wrapped about the deadly thing were burning,and Kennedy quickly tore them off, throwing them into the fireplace.

  A startled cry from Elaine caused us to turn.

  She was standing directly before her shattered picture where it hungawry on the wall. The heavy charges of buckshot had knocked away largepieces of paper and plaster under it.

  "Craig!" she gasped.

  He was at her side in a second.

  She laid one hand on his arm, as she faced him. With the other shetraced an imaginary line in the air from the level of the buckshot tohis head and then straight to the infernal thing that had lain in thefireplace.

  "And to think," she shuddered, "that it was through ME that he tried tokill you!"

  "Never mind," laughed Craig easily, as they gazed into each other'seyes, drawn together by their mutual peril, "Clutching Hand will haveto be cleverer than this to get either of us--Elaine!"