ranged for two o'clock on
this happy afternoon.

As the smug "dealer" bowed, his mind reverted to Mr. Wade's handsome
employee, Randall Clayton, and then the picture episode, and the
entrancing Magyar witch.

"I wonder, now," mused Lilienthal, "if young Clayton stole that
pretty devil away from Fritz Braun! Braun was really crazy over
her, it seems, and he, the black-hearted wretch, has gone over to
Europe to hunt for her. The pretty minx may be in hiding somewhere
up on the West Side, with Clayton. And yet I never saw or heard
of them together again. It may be he only wanted the picture, not
the woman!"

Mr. Lilienthal's laughter at his own joke was cut short by the racing
past of four policemen and two detectives. He was still standing
gaping in wonder when Robert Wade forced his way into his own office
and found all in an uproar.

Only Arthur Ferris was cool and collected, as he stationed the
police and called two stenographers into the room where old Somers
and Emil Einstein awaited the opening of an inquisition.

"There's been a robbery of a quarter of a million of our company's
funds, Wade," sharply cried Ferris. "We want to find out where
Clayton is. Take hold now and get these men's statements. I'll bring
in the bank messenger, and then try and hold Hugh Worthington on
the telegraph. The Chief should be even now nearing Cheyenne."

Ferris grasped Einstein's arm and drew him out of the room, as
Wade pompously began his Jupiter-like procedure. "I'll send for
the detective captain, and the Fidelity Company's people," said
Ferris; but he dragged Einstein into a vacant room. "You can open
his office, you young devil?" he whispered.

"Yes; side door key," said Einstein, conscious now of a protecting
friend.

"Get me in there, quick!" said Ferris, his eyes aflame. In a few
moments they stood in the vacant room. Ferris pointed to the desk.

"Remember what you told me!" he sternly murmured. And as the lad
drew out his stolen key, Ferris watched the roll-top desk slide
open. He grasped the bundle of telegrams and lone papers on the
pad, and motioned for the trembling boy to lock it.

Then, darting back into the ante-room, he dashed off two telegrams,
the first addressed to his secret partner at Cheyenne, and the
other to his wife in fact, but not name, "Miss Alice Worthington,
Palace Hotel, Tacoma."

"Not a word of this to any one; I'll pay you," said Ferris, as
he stuffed the papers in his pocket and