aglass door, and rapped upon the sash in a peculiar manner. Almostimmediately the door was opened by a woman, who beckoned him in. Theconservatory was unlighted save by a mellow drift that filtered throughthe plants from a doorway beyond, leading to the main house.
From behind the concealment of a thick bush Josie O'Gorman had notedthe woman's form but was unable to see her face. The girl happened toknow the house, however. It was the residence of Dorfield's socialleader, Mrs. Charleworth.
Josie squatted behind that bush for nearly half an hour. Then the glassdoor opened and Kauffman stepped out.
"By the way," he said in a low voice, "it's just as well we didn't takeKasker in with us. He's a loud-mouthed fool. I've tested him and findhe blats out everything he knows."
"We do not need him, since I've decided to finance the affair,"returned the woman, and Josie recognized her voice. It was the greatMrs. Charleworth herself. Mrs. Charleworth, in secret conference withAbe Kauffman, the suspender salesman!
Then Josie experienced another surprise. A second man stepped throughthe shadowy doorway, joining Kauffman on the steps.
"It seems to me," said this last person, "that there is danger innumbers. Of course, that's your affair, Kauffman, and none of mybusiness, but if I'm to help you pull it off, I'd rather there wouldn'tbe too many of us. It's a ticklish thing, at the best, and--"
"Shut up!" growled Kauffman, suspiciously peering around him into thedarkness. "The less we talk in the open, the better."
"That is true. Good night," said the woman, and went in, closing thedoor behind her.
"I think I will light a cigar," said Kauffman.
"Wait until you are in the street," cautioned the other.
They walked on the grass, avoiding the paths and keeping in the darkestplaces. Finally they emerged upon the sidewalk, and finding the coastclear, traveled on side by side.
At times they conversed in low tones, so low that the little red-headedgirl, dodging through the parkings in their wake, could not overhearthe words they spoke. But as they approached the more frequented partof the town, they separated, Kauffman turning into Broadway and theother continuing along a side street.
Josie O'Gorman followed the latter person. He was tall and thin andstooped a trifle. She had been unable, so far, to see his face. Heseemed, from the turnings he made, to be skirting the business sectionrather than pass directly through it. So the girl took a chance, darteddown one street and around the corner of another, and then slipped intoa dim doorway near which hung an electric street-light.
She listened eagerly and soon was rewarded by a sound of footsteps. Theman she was shadowing leisurely approached, passed under the light andcontinued on his way, failing to note the motionless form of the girlin the doorway.
Josie gave a little laugh.
"You're a puzzling proposition, Professor," she whispered to herself,"and you came near fooling me very properly. For I imagined you were onyour way to Washington, and here you've mixed up with another importantjob!"
CHAPTER XVIITHE BLACK SATCHEL
When Josie reached the hotel it was nearly midnight. Half the lights inthe office had been extinguished and behind the desk, reading a novel,the night clerk sprawled in an easy chair.
She hadn't seen the night clerk before. He was a sallow-faced boy,scarcely twenty years old, attired in a very striking suit of clothesand wearing a gorgeous jewelled scarf-pin in his cravat. As he read, hesmoked a cigarette.
"Hello," said this brilliant individual, as Josie leaned over thecounter and regarded him with a faint smile. "You're No. 43, I guess,and it's lucky old Boyle ain't here to read you a lecture--or to turnyou out. He won't stand for unmarried lady guests bein' out till thishour, an' you may as well know it first as last."
"He's quite right," was Josie's calm reply. "I'll not do it again. Mykey, please!"
He rose reluctantly and gave her the key.
"Do you sit up all night?" she asked sweetly.
"I'm s'posed to," he answered in a tone less gruff, "but towardsmornin' I snooze a little. Only way to pass the time, with noth'n' todo an' nobody to talk to. It's a beastly job, at the best, an' I'mgoin' to quit it."
"Why don't you start a hotel of your own?" she suggested.
"You think you're kiddin' me, don't you? But I might even do that, if Iwanted to," he asserted, glaring at her as if he challengedcontradiction. "It ain't money that stops me, but hotel keepin' is adog's life. I've made a bid for a cigar-store down the street, an' ifthey take me up, somebody can have this job."
"I see you're ambitious," said Josie. "Well, I hope you get thecigar-store. Good night, Mr.--"
"My name's Tom Linnet. I won't tell the ol' boy you was out so late. Solong."
The elevator had stopped running, so Josie climbed the stairs and wentthoughtfully to her room. Kauffman had preceded her. She heard him drophis shoes heavily upon the floor as he undressed.
She turned on the light and made some notes on her tablets, using thesame queer characters that she always employed. The last note read:"Tom Linnet, night clerk at the Mansion House. New clothes; newjewelry. Has money. Recently acquired, for no one with money would be anight clerk. Wants to quit his job and buy a cigar store. Query: Whostaked Tom? And why?"
As she crawled into bed Josie reflected: "Mary Louise would beastonished if she knew what I have learned to-night. But then, I'mastonished myself. I feel like the boy who went fishing for sunfish andcaught a whale."
Next morning she was up early, alert to continue her investigations.When she heard Mr. Kauffman go down to breakfast she took a bunch ofpass-keys from her bag, went boldly through the hall to the door of 45,unlocked it with ease and walked in. A hurried glance showed her alarge suitcase lying open upon a table. She examined its contents. Oneside was filled with samples of suspenders, the other withmiscellaneous articles of male apparel.
Josie was not satisfied. She peered under the bed, softly opened allthe drawers in the dresser and finally entered the closet. Here, on therear shelf, a newspaper was placed in such manner as to hide fromobservation anything behind it. To an ordinary person, glancing towardit, the newspaper meant nothing; to Josie's practised eye it wasplainly a shield. Being short of stature, the girl had to drag in achair in order to reach the high shelf. She removed the newspaper, tookdown a black hand-satchel--it was dreadfully heavy and she almostdropped it--and then replaced the paper as it had been before.
Josie was jubilant. She removed the chair, again closed the closetdoor, and leaving the room practically as she had found it stole backto her own apartment, the heavy satchel concealed in the folds of herfrock. But no one saw her, the hall being vacant, and she breathed asigh of relief as she locked her own door against possible intruders.
Then she placed the black satchel on a stand and bent over it. The lockwas an unusual one. She tried all the slender keys upon her bunchwithout effect--they were either too large or did not fit the keyhole.Next she took a thin hairpin, bent and twisted it this way and that andtried to pry the lock open. Failure. However, she was beginning tounderstand the mechanism of the lock by this time. From thatall-containing handbag which was her inseparable companion she drew outa file, and taking one of the master-keys, began to file it to fit thelock of the black satchel.
This operation consumed more time than she was aware, so interestingwas the intricate work. She was presently startled by a sound in thecorridor. Mr. Kauffman was coming back to his room, whistling an ariafrom "Die Walkure." Josie paused, motionless; her heart almost stoppedbeating.
The man unlocked his door and entered, still whistling. Sometimes thewhistle was soft and low, again it was louder and more cheerful. Josielistened in suspense. As long as the whistling continued she realizedthat the theft of the black satchel remained undiscovered.
Kauffman remained in his room but a few moments. When he departed,carefully locking his door after him, he was still whistling. Josie ranto her own door and when he had passed it opened it just a crack, toenable her to gaze after him. Und
erneath his arm he carried a bundle ofthe sample suspenders.
"Good!" she whispered softly, retreating to bend over the satchelagain. "Mr. Abe Kauffman will sell suspenders this morning as a blindto his more important industries, so I needn't hurry."
Sooner than she expected the lock clicked and sprang open. Her eyes atfirst fell upon some crumpled, soiled shirts, but these she hurriedlyremoved. The remainder of the satchel contained something enclosed in agreen flannel bag. It was heavy, as she found when she tried to lift itout, and a sudden suspicion led her to handle the thing very gingerly.She put it on the table beside the
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