a friend of Howard Van
Cleft," he continued. "Your three friends have met their deaths at the
hand of a cunning conspirator. Last night, white I talked with you on
the telephone, young Van Cleft was receiving advice over another wire
from a person who pretended to be William Grimsby--advising him to hush
the matter up and drop the investigation. But--Captain Cronin the
famous detective--has received a tip that the number of victims would be
increased very soon--frankly, now: do you want to be the fourth?"

Grimsby's face changed to ashen gray, as he timidly clutched Shirley's
sleeve.

"Then cooperate with me. You understand now the nature of this villain's
work: to rob and assassinate his victim in the company of a girl, so
that this would endeavor to hush the scandal, without reporting it to
the police. His progress is unchecked, and afterwards he would have
untold opportunity for continuing a demand for hush money on the
surviving relatives. May I count on you to help?"

"You may count on me to leave the city within the next two hours."

"Good! But I want to have you disappear so quietly that this cunning
unknown will not know of it. He is watching your house now, without a
doubt."

Grimsby strode to the window, with his characteristic limp, and drew the
heavy curtains aside, to peer out nervously.

"No one is in sight."

"The man is as unseen in his work as a germ. But he is not unheard: he
uses the telephone to locate his victims, that is why I advised you to
let your instrument ring unanswered."

"I'll do what I can, if I can keep out of more danger. An old man craves
life more than a young one. I fought through the Civil War and brought
a medal from Congress and this wounded knee out of it, Mr. Shirley. I
didn't fear anything then, but times have changed!"

"Here is my plan, then," continued Shirley, his lips twitching with
sub-strata amusement, "I want to impersonate you, when you leave, so
that this man tries to send me after the other three. Don't interrupt,
let me finish--You will say that it is impossible to deceive any one at
close range. Surely, it does sound melodramatic, like a lurid tale of
a paper back novel. But I have studied the photographs of your friends.
You and I bear the closest resemblance of any in the group. Your weight
is about the same as mine--your shoulders are a trifle stooped and
you walk with a curious drag of your left foot. Your hair is white
but thick: the contour of our