ossessed in acquiring it,
and even remarks that he is thinking of putting you, Mr. Blaine, on
the mysterious attempt at robbery. That would be a joke, wouldn't it,
if it wasn't really, in my estimation at least, a covert threat. Why
should he, Mallowe, take me into his confidence about an affair which
took place in his private office? He did not make the excuse of
pretending to retain me as his attorney. I think he was merely warning
me that he was suspicious of me."

"Probably a mere coincidence," Blaine observed easily.

"I wonder if you'll think so when I tell you that twice since
yesterday my life has been attempted." Ramon spoke quietly enough, but
there was a slight trembling in his tones.

"What!" Blaine started forward in his chair, then sank back with an
incredulous smile, which none but he could have known was forced.
"Surely you imagine it, Mr. Hamilton. Since your automobile accident,
when you were run down and so nearly killed on the evening you sent
for me to undertake Miss Lawton's case, you may well be nervous."

As he spoke he glanced at the other's broken arm, which was still
swathed in bandages.

"But these were no accidents, Mr. Blaine, and I have always doubted
that the first one was, as you know. Yesterday afternoon, a new
client's case called me down to the sixth ward, at four o'clock. In
order to reach my client's address it was necessary to pass through
the street in which that shooting affray occurred which filled the
papers last evening. Two men darted out of a house, shot presumably
at each other, then turned and ran in opposite directions without
waiting to see if either of the shots took effect. You know that isn't
usual with the members of rival gangs down there. Remember, too, Mr.
Blaine, that it was prearranged for me to walk alone through that
street at just that psychological moment. It seemed to me that neither
man shot at the other, but both fired point-blank at me. I dismissed
the idea from my mind as absurd, the next minute, and would have
thought no more about it, beyond congratulating myself on my fortunate
escape, had not the second attempt been made."

"The sixth ward--" Blaine remarked, meditatively. "That's Timothy
Carlis' stamping ground, of course. But go on, Mr. Hamilton. What was
the second incident?"

"Late last night, I had a telephone message from my club that my best
friend, Gordon Brooke, had been taken suddenly ill with a serious
attack of heart-trouble, an