us vision.

He knew by the elaborate way in which she took her seat beside him and
hid the piece of paper in her hand that she had some new whim in
fermentation--something to ask him that she knew he wouldn't want to
do.

"Yes," he said, moving along the step away from her. "I know you've
just bought me the loveliest cravat, that I'm the nicest brother in the
world, that I look so handsome in Springy things and--well, what it
is?"

Pauline pouted at the other end of the step.

"I'm going up in a balloon and jump down," she announced, "from a
height never before attempted."

"Polly I You are going to do nothing of the--"

"No, I wasn't going to, until you grew so great and grand. I just
wanted to go over and see him fly."

She tossed the dodger over to him. He glanced at it.

"Well, if you promise you aren't plotting any more pranks, I'll take
you."

"That's a worth-while brother. It's a pink one."

"Pink one?"

"Cravat, of course."

Harry groaned. "Give it to the cook," he pleaded. "He wears 'em
alive. If that fellow goes up at 2:30, you'd better hurry."

"I'll be ready before you are."

She rose quickly, but Owen, looking, listening, had time to close the
door unseen, unheard.

At the rear of a little West Side saloon, he signaled with his horn,
and Hicks came out. He was a bit shabbier than usual, and he had been
drinking, but he was not intoxicated.

Owen locked his machine and taking his arm walked him rapidly up the
avenue.

"What do you mean by writing to me?" demanded Owen. "Haven't I told
you never to put words on paper?"

"Oh, I guess you got that house wired so nobody'll catch you," grunted
Hicks. "Live wires, too-clever butlers, footmen, maids, chauffeurs,
cooks; you're safe enough."

"You forget those are your wires. They don't know they're working for
me. Hicks, are you out of your head? Have you told Bemis that you and
I are working together?"

"Sure not; but that butler is no fool, Mr. Owen."

"Was it from him you found out that Harry had the lawyers after us?"

"No--queer thing that, that--it wasn't."

"Who, then?"

"The little Espinosa."

"Espinosa--in New York?"

"Yes--met her at the Trocadero a week ago. She'd seen old Calderwood
already. I guess she blackmails him--the old reprobate, and him the
noble counselor at law for Mr. Harry Marvin!"

"So you put her on the scent--for us?"

"Why not? The young fellow's been acting suspicious for a long ti