as a risky route to safety, he reflected, but, in view of
what Emile had said about his pursuers, it was infinitely preferable to
any other.

Why he had helped the fellow Van Dam scarcely knew, unless it was
because of his sympathy for the under dog. Whatever the boy had done, he
possessed a reckless bravery that was commendable, and he still held his
mother's love.

Roly was about to close the door when he saw a second man, in a long,
black domino, briefly silhouetted above the fence. Then he heard a
whistle. The fellow dropped over into the tracks of Emile, leaving the
New-Yorker amazed at the apparition. A sickening fear clutched Van Dam,
but he knew it was useless to cry out. Could it be that he had sent the
young fellow to his death?

When a moment, then another, had passed with no sound from that quarter,
he closed the kitchen door and retraced his steps swiftly to the front
of the house.

As he came to the library entrance he found it closed, and, from inside,
he heard a tinkle as if a telephone hook was being violently agitated.
Inclining his ear, a low, agonized voice came to him:

"... Le Duc again.... Why haven't you sent the police?... Robbery.... My
cousin Emile ... murder me.... God above! They are slow!... He will
escape...."

Van Dam tried the door. It was locked. Then he called, sweetly: "Alfred!
My dear cousin Alfred!"

The voice at the telephone ended in a shriek. There came a crash as the
instrument fell from the old man's fingers.

So the police were on their way! Escape, then, must be but a matter of
moments. With his heart pounding, Van Dam stepped into the drawing-room
and reconnoitered from a front window. What he saw did not reassure him,
particularly in view of Emile's words; for, directly opposite, he beheld
a masked man in a black domino who looked very much like the Black Wolf.
Scattered up and down the block were others, all idling about in a
seemingly objectless manner. Evidently the house was surrounded. He
dared not risk the back way, after what he had seen. He could not
remain. From the library again came that faint, frantic tinkling.

Van Dam dropped his mask, tore the flimsy robe from his back, and strode
to the front door. Under any other circumstances he would have preferred
to remain and to take the consequences, but for Madelon's sake he dare
not risk an explanation to the police. Besides--how could he explain
that twenty thousand dollars, in clean, crisp ten-dollar no