Reginald Thomas Maitland Scott

“ The leg kicked a little, and Wentworth swept the hanging clothes to one side with his cane. On the floor of the closet a woman lay crumpled. Her hands were tied behind her by means of a stocking, and a man's large handkerchief was an effective gag which stopped her speech. She was a young woman, magnificently and femininely formed as was plainly shown by the clinging and expensive evening gown which she wore. Her face was marred by the gag, but her eyes blazed fury under a great mass of golden hair. ”

“ Madame Pompé withdrew her bare arms from around Wentworth's neck and stepped back from him, turning her gaze toward the newcomer. Even in those few seconds she regained control of herself. She surveyed the intruder with a magnificent portrayal of outward calm, but she was exercising control. She appeared to be studying the man with the guns, trying to read his mind through the mask.
Wentworth believed that he was in the presence of the criminal he had sought so long; yet he watched the woman while she watched the man. ”

“ There was just enough light to make two doors distinguishable. The rear door, which should be that of Dorothy Canfield, showed no light. But a faint streak of light could be seen beneath the other door.
Wishing to reconnoiter his surroundings, Wentworth stepped softly to the door of the lighted room and listened. Regular, deep breathing could be heard. Very gently he turned the knob and found the door unlocked. He pushed it open a bit and looked into the room. On a bed lay a man with his face to the wall, snoring regularly. ”

“ As he spoke, Wentworth placed a foot on the running board and his hands upon the top of the taxi. With the agility of a wild animal he vaulted to the taxi's roof, crouched for a second and sprang easily, slender cane in one hand, and opera hat firm upon his head, to the top of the stone wall. Three shots rang out from the third taxi in rapid succession, even as he leaped into the shelter of the trees and bushes of Central Park. ”

“ X," Wentworth said a trifle quickly, but without any emotion. "You will be dead in another second if you continue."
Wentworth's voice had not been raised in the slightest above normal, but the words were spoken with so much quiet assurance that Mr. X lowered his pistol a little and flashed one swift glance about the room.
"Is bluff the only weapon you have left, my friend?" he asked. "I am afraid that you cannot bluff me."
"Then let me show you something that will surprise you," Wentworth said.
From the mantelpiece the tall and indolent man raised Madame Pompé's tiny handkerchief. ”

“ Wentworth smiled a trifle. "Angry?" he asked.
"A woman never likes to be fooled," she returned. "But I wish we could be friends."
"Give me some reasons for it," he suggested.
Swiftly she rose and went to some black portieres which hung over the entrance to the hall. She swept them aside. As though satisfied that nobody was eavesdropping, she dropped the portieres back into place and returned to her chair.
Their chairs were close together. Slowly she turned sidewise and looked up into his face while she bent forward until her lips were almost touching his. ”

“ Wentworth returned with easy assurance. "Come and stand in front of the handkerchief. I want you to watch it closely."
Mr. X moved slowly around Wentworth and faced the handkerchief where it hung upon the wall, its corner pinned by the picture frame. He was wise enough, however, not to come within reach of Wentworth's long arms. A man can be disarmed by an expert, if he comes within striking distance.
"Ready?" asked Wentworth still leaning carelessly against the mantelpiece. ”

“ Wentworth stepped out upon the narrow sidewalk, upon which there were no other pedestrians in sight, and nonchalantly strolled back to the other taxi.
"Interested in me?" he asked, suddenly opening the door of the young man's taxi.
The young man tried to cover his confusion by blowing cigarette smoke through his nose in what he intended to be an extremely worldly-wise manner.
"Newspaper reporter, eh?" remarked Wentworth interrogatively.
"Holy smoke!" gasped the young man. "How did you know that?"
"What else could you be? You're not a crook and you're not a policeman. ”

“ A small bed loomed against the wall, and a cheap chest of drawers with a small mirror stood by the single window. One electric light bulb hung from the center of the ceiling and on the floor, beneath it, a chair seemed to be overturned. There was complete silence. ”

“ Il n'y pas de quoi, my very dear Richard Wentworth. It is nothing at all and no thanks are necessary. You are quite a difficult man to kill, and I really think that I should thank you. Most men are so very easy to kill. ”

“ It was a superb piece of workmanship, very small but quite deadly. He examined it with apparent interest, snapping the safety catch off and on. Releasing the little magazine, he dropped it out upon the palm of his hand and ejected the cartridge which lay in the barrel, catching it dexterously and inserting it at the bottom of the magazine. ”