Johnston McCulley

“ John Dratter went into the other room, into the midst of the snoring men, and got his coat from the foot of the cot that had been assigned him. He put on the ragged garment and sat down beside Granilton again. Granilton was holding his head in his hands, and he seemed to tremble now and then.
“I fear that it is an attack of indigestion,” he told Dratter. “I am rather subject to such attacks. I should live a more regular life, I suppose, but I get so much pleasure out of helping others, and I must live irregularly to meet the men I wish to befriend.” ”

“ Granilton spoke in cold tones. Dratter drew in his breath sharply.
“I'll kill no man, no matter how much money you offer,” he said.
“We are not asking you to kill a man. The executioner already has been appointed. It is fitting that the man who spent the year in prison should have his revenge. After he is killed, Dratter, we deal with you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“We are eager to save our own skins, of course. And we want this Detective Slone to think that one of The Chameleon's men did the killing. We are going to stamp the replica of a chameleon on one of your arms, Dratter. ”

“ He closed the door and walked along the hall. Dratter heard the light button snap, and turned to inspect his host's den.
A gasp escaped him, his eyes bulged. Instantly he was on guard. Granilton stood just behind him, chuckling, sneering. But John Dratter was not looking at Granilton.
He found that he was in a large room, evidently one that had been used as a ballroom. It was furnished lavishly. Expensive rugs were on the floor, the furniture was massive. In the center of the room was a long, polished table surrounded by heavy chairs. ”

“ So many men in places like this are ignorant fellows. They can't help it, maybe, but it is no pleasure to talk with them. My name is Granilton.”
“Names don't make any difference, but I don't mind saying that mine is Dratter.”
“Thank you. A man's all right as long as he is not afraid to tell his name. This your first time in this—er—hostelry?”
“Yes.”
“Don't even know our estimable friend, the night clerk?”
“Never saw him before to-night.”
“Stranger in a strange land,” Granilton said. Once more there was a quick gleam in his eyes, but John Dratter did not see it. “Looking for work?” ”

“ John Dratter felt in a pocket of his ragged coat and brought forth a cigarette paper. He felt in another pocket and found a few crumbs of tobacco. Very deliberately he made his poor cigarette, put it into his mouth, struck a match along the side of his chair, and lighted the smoke. He puffed toward the ceiling, and then turned his head and regarded Granilton again. The others in the office had gone into the sleeping room. The clerk nodded behind his counter.
“What's your game?” Dratter asked suddenly and softly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You're not a down and outer, by any means. ”

“ The chauffeur regarded them with suspicion until the clerk handed him the five-dollar bill as a guarantee of fare. They went out to the curb, and John Dratter helped Granilton into the machine.
Granilton gave the address, and Dratter repeated it to the chauffeur, and then got into the car himself and closed the door. Dratter was wondering for the moment at the peculiar happenings of which a man may find himself a part; the address Granilton gave was in a district where there were to be found only the homes of millionaires and persons of importance in the social world. ”

“ Granilton declared suggestively. “To continue with the story, Waldorp decided, a couple of years ago, that he would retire. Fancy that! He had a fortune, of course; all of us are wealthy men. He wanted to turn honest and die a respectable citizen, or something like that. No family, either, except a niece, the woman you saw downstairs. He told us he wanted to be decent and have his niece for his ward—her folks had died. ”

“ And yet, not a man can disappear entirely without somebody missing him. Every man has his friends, of course.”
“Every man has his acquaintances, at least,” Dratter said. “But I haven't even many of those. ”

“ I've been watching to catch a certain man who needs help—a worthy case.”
“Maybe you'd better go home.”
“My house is in the upper end of town, quite a distance from here,” Granilton explained. “I—I am feeling queer. I feel that I should be at home. Just a slight indisposition, I suppose, but——”
“Better have the clerk telephone for a taxicab,” Dratter said. “Show him coin enough, and he'll do it and take the responsibility. You couldn't get a taxi to come down here this hour otherwise.”
“Here,” Granilton said. He took a five-dollar bill from his pocket and gave it to Dratter. ”

“ Your nails have been manicured within forty-eight hours, Your face and hair show that you have been going to an excellent barber regularly. And you haven't been starving to keep up your personal appearance, either. ”

“ So I have been prowling around here and there and finding men who really needed help and would be glad to get it—not professional bums or drunkards, but men of the right sort, unfortunate for the time being. When I find the right kind of man, I give him the right kind of help. For instance, I believe that you are the right sort of man, and will be glad to help you get on your feet again. ”

“ Barnes helped, of course. Barnes is a man we picked up a few months ago; he's a handy man—does dirty work for us. But we didn't want to get rid of Barnes. He's a good man to have around. So we decided to get more help.”
“I suppose you mean me?”
“Precisely. I went down in the lower end of town in search of some man who had no relatives, whom nobody knew, a man suitable for our purpose. I found you, decoyed you here, and my friends have agreed that you will do.”
“But what——”
“Softly!” repeated Granilton. “You shall have the entire story. We are going to deal with Waldorp, the traitor. ”

“ Granilton reminded him. “Say no more about it. To resume, Dratter, we finally worked out a plan. We would make Waldorp pay the penalty, and we would see that the blame was placed on The Chameleon. This detective, Slone, has been messing around with Waldorp a bit. If we succeed, he will think he has been on the wrong track—that The Chameleon is the man he should pursue. Understand? He'll think The Chameleon was one of the band to which Waldorp belonged. ”