N.Y. ... Name is Mike Clinch. ... Has Flaming
Jewel. ... Erosite. ... I sail at once. "Quintana."

Having served in Russia as an officer in the Military Intelligence
Department attached to the American Expeditionary Forces, Darragh had
little trouble with Quintana's letter. Even the signature was not
difficult, the fraction 1/5 was easily translated Quint; and the
familiar prescription symbol a a spelled ana; which gave Quintana's name
in full.

He had heard of Erosite as the rarest and most magnificent of all gems.
Only three were known. The young Duchess Theodorica of Esthonia had
possessed one.

* * * * *

Darragh was immensely amused to find that the chase after Emanuel Sard
should have led him to the very borders of the great Harrod estate in
the Adirondacks.

He gathered up his loot and walked on through the splendid forest which
once had belonged to Henry Harrod of Boston, and which now was the
property of Harrod's nephew, James Darragh.

When he came to the first trespass notice he stood a moment to read it.
Then, slowly, he turned and looked toward Clinch's. An autumn sunset
flared like a conflagration through the pines. There was a glimmer of
water, too, where Star Pond lay.

* * * * *

Fate, Chance, and Destiny were becoming very busy with Mike Clinch.
They had started Quintana, Sard, and Darragh on his trail. Now they
stirred up the sovereign State of New York.

That lank wolf, Justice, was afoot and sniffing uncomfortably close to
the heels of Mike Clinch.

* * * * *

II

Two State Troopers drew bridles in the yellowing October forest. Their
smart drab uniforms touched with purple blended harmoniously with the
autumn woods. They were as inconspicuous as two deer in the dappled
shadow. There was a sunny clearing just ahead. The wood road they had
been travelling entered it. Beyond lay Star Pond.

Trooper Lannis said to Trooper Stormont: "That's Mike Clinch's clearing.
Our man may be there. Now we'll see if anybody tips him off this time."

Forest and clearing were very still in the sunshine. Nothing stirred
save gold leaves drifting down, and a hawk high in the deep blue sky
turning in narrow circles.

Lannis was instructing Stormont, who had been transferred from the Long
Island Troop, and who was unacquainted with local matters.

Lannis said: "Clinch's dump stands on the other edge of the clearing.
Clinch owns five hundred acres in here. He's a rat."

"Bad?"

"Well,