h River from the wooded heights of the Drive know of
the pier at Eighty-sixth Street. For one thing, the clubhouse itself is
an unpretentious structure; for another, the narrow and winding stairway
leading down the side of the cliff gives no indication of its specific
purpose. Moreover, a light foot-bridge across the tracks is hardly
noticeable through the screen of trees and shrubs above, and the
water-front lies yet fifty yards farther on.

At night the approach is not well lighted. In fact, no portion of the
beautiful and precipitous riparian park is more secluded than the short
stretch between the landing-stage and the busy thoroughfare on the
crest.

That evening, as has been seen, Mr. Van Hofen was taking no risks for
himself or his guests. A patrolman from the local precinct was stationed
at the iron-barred gate on the landward end of the foot-bridge.

Clancy, on descending from the bus, stood for a few seconds and surveyed
the scene. The night was dark and the sky overcast, but the myriad
lights on the New Jersey shore were reflected in the swift current of
the Hudson. The superb _Sans Souci_ was easily distinguishable. All her
ports were a-glow; lamps twinkled beneath the awnings on her after deck,
and a boarding light indicated the lowered gangway.

The yacht was moored about three hundred feet from the landing-stage.
Her graceful outlines were clearly discernible against the black, moving
plain of the river. Just in that spot shone her radiance, lending a
sense of opulence and security. For the rest, that part of New York's
great waterway was dim and impalpable.

Try as he might, the detective could see no small craft afloat. The
yacht's gig, waiting at the clubhouse, was hidden from view. He sped
rapidly down the steps, and found the patrolman.

"That you, Nolan?" he said.

The man peered at him.

"Oh, Mr. Clancy, is it?" he replied.

"You know Senator Meiklejohn by sight?"

"Sure I do."

"When he comes along hail him. Say 'Good evening, Senator.' I'll hear
you."

Clancy promptly moved off along the path which runs parallel with the
railway. Nolan, though puzzled, put no questions, being well aware he
would be told nothing more.

Three gentlemen came down the cliff, and crossed the bridge. One was Van
Hofen himself. Now, the fates had willed that Ronald Tower should come
next, and alone. He was hurrying. He had seen figures entering the club,
and wanted to join them in the gig.

The police