from the hotel. It would have been hard to pick
out, at that instant, two persons more singularly ill at ease in all
New York.

Curtis saw that the clerk, now at his desk, was engaged with a lady, so
he strolled to the door, being rather interested in the excited antics
of the pair on the sidewalk. He had just passed through the door when
an automobile dashed up, and he fancied, though he could not be quite
sure in the half-light, that the chauffeur nodded to the waiting men.
The porter opened the door of the automobile, and a young man in
evening dress, and carrying an overcoat, leaped out. Obviously, he was
in a desperate hurry, and Curtis heard him say in French:

"Don't stop the engine, Anatole. I shall be but one moment."

At that instant the two foreigners sprang at him. One, swinging the
porter off his feet, seized the newcomer's right arm, and, helped by
his comrade, endeavored to force him back into the vehicle. The effort
failed, however, so the second desperado drew a knife and plunged it
deliberately into the unfortunate man's neck. It was a fearsome
stroke, intended both to silence and to kill, and, with a gurgling cry,
its victim collapsed in the grip of his assailants.

Curtis, though almost stupefied by the suddenness of the crime, did not
hesitate a second when he caught the venomous gleam of the knife.
Throwing aside his coat, he rushed forward, but he had to cross the
whole width of the pavement, and the murderers, realizing that the
capture of one or both was imminent, thrust the inert body in his way.
The chauffeur, who must have seen all that happened, had already
started the car, the two men scrambled into it, and all that Curtis
could do was to run after it and shout frantically to the driver of a
taxi coming in the opposite direction to turn his vehicle and block the
roadway.

The man understood, but was naturally slow to risk a sharp collision
merely at the order of an excited gentleman in evening dress. He
stopped quickly enough, but, by the time his help was available,
pursuit was hopeless; the one thing Curtis could do he had done--while
running up the street he had deciphered the number of the car, X24-305.

Before Curtis rejoined the dazed hall-porter a small crowd had
gathered, and it was difficult to get near the body lying on the curb.
A man picked up an overcoat, and Curtis, cool and clear-headed now,
took it, and appealed to him, if he knew where the nearest doctor
liv