hey
can't get us. We've got our fingers crossed."

She would have said more, but a noise at the hall door interrupted her,
and she looked up to see a man in the opening, while behind him appeared
the maid, protesting angrily.

"Never mind that announcing thing with me," the newcomer rasped to the
expostulating servant, in a voice that suited well his thick-set figure,
with the bullet-shaped head and the bull-like neck. Then he turned to
the two in the drawing-room, both of whom had now risen to their feet.

"It's all right, Fannie," Aggie said hastily to the flustered maid. "You
can go."

As the servant, after an indignant toss of the head, departed along the
passage, the visitor clumped heavily forward and stopped in the center
of the room, looking first at one and then the other of the two with a
smile that was not pleasant. He was not at pains to remove the derby
hat which he wore rather far back on his head. By this single sign, one
might have recognized Cassidy, who had had Mary Turner in his charge
on the occasion of her ill-fated visit to Edward Gilder's office, four
years before, though now the man had thickened somewhat, and his ruddy
face was grown even coarser.

"Hello, Joe!" he cried, familiarly. "Hello, Aggie!"

The light-gray eyes of the forger had narrowed perceptibly as he
recognized the identity of the unceremonious caller, while the lines of
his firmly set mouth took on an added fixity.

"Well?" he demanded. His voice was emotionless.

"Just a little friendly call," Cassidy announced, in his strident voice.
"Where's the lady of the house?"

"Out." It was Aggie who spoke, very sharply.

"Well, Joe," Cassidy went on, without paying further heed to the girl
for a moment, "when she comes back, just tell her it's up to her to make
a get-away, and to make it quick."

But Aggie was not one to be ignored under any circumstances. Now, she
spoke with some acerbity in her voice, which could at will be wondrous
soft and low.

"Say!" she retorted viciously, "you can't throw any scare into us. You
hadn't got anything on us. See?"

Cassidy, in response to this outburst, favored the girl with a long
stare, and there was hearty amusement in his tones as he answered.

"Nothing on you, eh? Well, well, let's see." He regarded Garson with a
grin. "You are Joe Garson, forger." As he spoke, the detective took a
note-book from a pocket, found a page, and then read: "First arrested in
1891, for forging the na