at his
desk.
"I can't see any one to-night, Thomas," he exclaimed, sharply.
"But he said it was most important, sir," the servant went on. He held
out the tray insistently.
The master took the card grudgingly. As his eyes caught the name, his
expression changed slightly.
"Very well," he said, "show him up." His glance met the wondering gaze
of his son.
"It's Burke," he explained.
"What on earth can he want--at this time of night?" Dick exclaimed.
The father smiled grimly.
"You may as well get used to visits from the police." There was
something ghastly in the effort toward playfulness.
A moment later, Inspector Burke entered the room.
"Oh, you're here, too," he said, as his eyes fell on Dick. "That's good.
I wanted to see you, too."
Inspector Burke was, in fact, much concerned over the situation that
had developed. He was a man of undoubted ability, and he took a keen
professional pride in his work. He possessed the faults of his class,
was not too scrupulous where he saw a safe opportunity to make a snug
sum of money through the employment of his official authority, was ready
to buckle to those whose influence could help or hinder his ambition.
But, in spite of these ordinary defects, he was fond of his work and
wishful to excel in it. Thus, Mary Turner had come to be a thorn in his
side. She flouted his authority and sustained her incredible effrontery
by a restraining order from the court. The thing was outrageous to him,
and he set himself to match her cunning. The fact that she had involved
Dick Gilder within her toils made him the more anxious to overcome her
in the strife of resources between them. After much studying, he had
at last planned something that, while it would not directly touch
Mary herself, would at least serve to intimidate her, and as well make
further action easier against her. It was in pursuit of this scheme
that he now came to Gilder's house, and the presence of the young man
abruptly gave him another idea that might benefit him well. So, he
disregarded Gilder's greeting, and went on speaking to the son.
"She's skipped!" he said, triumphantly.
Dick made a step forward. His eyes flashed, and there was anger in his
voice as he replied:
"I don't believe it."
The Inspector smiled, unperturbed.
"She left this morning for Chicago," he said, lying with a manner that
long habit rendered altogether convincing. "I told you she'd go." He
turned to the father, and sp
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