Mrs. Wilson Woodrow

“ An hour's driving, with the aid of Hatton's map, brought him to a branch road, steep and newly repaired, which wound up a hill apparently into rugged country. Running the car into a covert of bushes off the side of the road, Ramsey parked it there and started to climb the hill on foot.
A stiff walk of ten minutes or so through the woods and underbrush—for he avoided the road—brought him to the edge of a clearing in which stood the house. It was of simple, bungalow architecture, painted a pale buff, and with a red tiled roof. A wide porch with bright awnings ran the length of it. ”

“ Achison applauded himself. “And you, Ramsey, added to the zest of it by interjecting an element of real danger. I enjoyed that for a time, but you gave me too close a run for my money.”
Ramsey did not propose to let him stop with this, as he seemed inclined.
“You have answered me,” he said, “but not completely. Have you ever paused to think—surely a man of your mental equipment must have done so many times—that your gain can never be commensurate with the risk. You stand to lose life, liberty and reputation, all that makes living really worth while. ”

“ He must get Achison so absorbed in conversation that he would not note the passage of time. But what topic would hold him?
As Wallace asked the question, the answer came. There is but one subject that will hold a man when all others fail—himself. And Ramsey's spirits rose as he remembered that he possessed the great and rare gift of being a good listener. ”

“ All persons of unusual powers are complex. Every strong nature is made up of a number of personalities. These, I take it, are more distinct and differentiated in me than in most men.”
He was leaning back in his chair now, talking as if thinking aloud and absorbedly. He would go on thus for a time. If he flagged, he must be spurred by artful questions or driven by argument to further exposition. Some way, any way, he must be kept going. Time was passing, and Ramsey only asked an hour. God keep his brain nimble! He was staking his life on his ability to hold the other man's attention that long. ”

“ Achison nodded shortly, then paused, drawing his eyebrows together. “Still, one can always learn, even from the ant one crushes under foot. Perhaps we are not thinking of the same percentages. To just which do you refer?”
“Well,”—Ramsey took his time in lighting a fresh cigarette,—“one is that of the human element. Every man who has ever tried to play a gambling system knows that although it will work out faultlessly on paper, it rarely does so in fact. The human element enters, and the player allows his hopes and fears, or the advice of others, to sway his judgment. ”

“ Murder, arson, abduction—what?”
“Counterfeiting,” said Ramsey curtly.
ACHISON'S eyelids fluttered slightly. His benign, good-humored expression, an habitual mask, altered subtly and became ruthless and menacing.
“Ah?” There was at least no change in the suavity of his tones. “I begin to comprehend. This—er—obsession dates, of course, from the night you dined with that fellow Hatton. And so”—with tolerant, patronizing amusement—“you expected to find the outfit going full blast in my cellar. They are always in cellars, are they not? ”

“ That no life lives forever,
That dead men rise up never,
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.
He recited the lines beautifully in his rich, full voice; and having gone so far, could not resist the temptation to go farther.
“Most men, who had gleaned the facts about me that you have,” he said slowly, “would insist that in my nature there runs a strain of abnormality; but I do not so analyze myself. I am, you must agree, gifted beyond my fellows. ”

“ While Ramsey stood studying the scene and seeking to impress its various features on his mind, he heard the throb of a motor ascending the hill, and in a few moments Achison's big gray car came into view and swept up to the porch. The lawyer got out, a suitcase in his hand, a bundle of newspapers under his arm, and entered the house. The chauffeur drove on into the garage, and after an interval appeared at one of the upper windows. ”

“ Hatton had always regarded Wallace Ramsey as a rather reserved and silent person; but this evening at the theater he seemed almost stolidly indifferent to what was beyond question an excellent play. As a matter of fact, although Ramsey's eyes were fixed on the stage, the action which took place there entirely failed to register on his brain. Immediately after the last curtain, he pleaded a press of work to be finished, and bidding Hatton good night, parted from him at the theater door. ”

“ Of course, there is always the temptation in pursuing a theory to force the facts to fit the conclusion one is seeking; and Ramsey could not deny that a series of brilliant articles was appearing in one of the newspapers under Achison's name, or that he himself had heard a publisher speak of the lawyer's forthcoming book as a real contribution to the literature of painting. ”

“ Ramsey observed casually.
“A prince,” declared Hatton with quick enthusiasm, glad apparently to turn from the discussion of his fiasco. “He was just leaving his office the day we called, and nothing would do but that we must let him take us over to Jersey with him and have dinner at his bungalow. Some dinner, too, I'll say; he has a cook that is a wonder. But I enjoyed listening to Achison even more than I liked the food. ”

“ Very charming, though—and no lack of creature comforts, even to a cellar which, judging from the samples we received,”—Hatton grinned reminiscently,—“must be quite up to ante-prohibition standards.”
“Who does for him?” Ramsey asked. “It must be quite a job getting servants in a place like that, to say nothing of looking after them.”
“He has a man and wife, a very dependable couple, I should say. The woman does the cooking—husband a sort of combined butler and gardener. They live over the garage, and the chauffeur lodges with them; Achison reserves the cottage for himself. ”

“ And then you were planning to drive back to town with your information, and it would be all over with Achison?
“Ramsey,”—with a shake of the head,—“you are cursed with the great fault of youth—impetuosity. With your gifts you might have gone far. ”

“ Murder!” he shouted at the top of his voice for Achison's benefit.
Then, wriggling sideways so as to bring his lips down to the mouthpiece, he dictated in lower tone a rapid message to the typist who would transcribe the record.
“Am a prisoner at Achison's bungalow. Counterfeiters working at last house in village a mile away. Get word at once to Hatton of Secret Service to round them up, and then come and get me. Wallace Ramsey.”
Shutting off the power with another touch to the lever, he yelled again for help, and pushed the dictaphone back to where it had stood before. ”

“ The Secret Service operative paused to pour himself a second cup of coffee.
“There's another angle, too,” he resumed, “where Achison comes into this affair. In fact, when we first started in, we were very hopeful that he might be able to give us our lead. You see, he defended Swope on his last trial, making it so plain the old man was too ill to conduct any operations or even direct them, that he got him off. ”

“ Again the suave Achison is confronted by his Nemesis, Wallace Ramsey, in the most ingenious story of his career thus far published
BY THE
CLOCK
By
MRS. WILSON WOODROW
RAMSEY looked at his watch, and reassured as to the hour, offered his cigarette-case to the man sitting opposite him at the restaurant table.
“Only eight o'clock,” he said,—“twenty minutes before we need start for the theater. We can drink our coffee comfortably, and not gulp it.” ”