Arthur B. Reeve

“ KENNEDY stopped and turned full upon Alvarez.
“You, Alvarez!” he accused. “You thought you were playing an astute game. But even such masters of intrigue as you can be undone by those who are literally steeped in the fountain of intrigue in the Orient. Only modern science and American common sense in its application have foiled those who have beaten you, almost under your eyes, at your own game.” ”

“ Sure enough, seated in the alcove of the tokonoma were two roughly dressed men who looked as if they might have been newly arrived Italian immigrant-laborers. Kennedy’s automatic covered them before they were fairly on their feet.
“Not a word!” he shouted as they began gesticulating and protesting. “I’ve been in this business long enough to read features—not clothes—Alvarez and Sanchez!”
Clever though the disguises were, including one lying on a chair, which was to have transformed the Señora into a Sicilian belle, it was indeed the men we sought—Alvarez and Sanchez. ”

“ The morning air seemed to revive our drooping energies, however, and I sprang forward to crank the engine while Sinclair himself slid into the seat in front.
Mrs. Hawley, who had been tacitly accepted as one of us, seemed naturally to take the other front seat, and somehow Burke and Morelos, Kennedy and myself managed to squeeze into the rear.
“Nichi Moto?” I overheard Mrs. Hawley say to Sinclair. “He knew Valcour, Neumeyer—all. He used to come here to the cabaret, though I didn’t know they ever went to the curio-shop.” ”