lly. "You've heard of them,
haven't you, Carlis? When you asked me if we were alone, if any of my
operatives were spying about, I told you that no human ear overheard
our conversation. But this little concealed instrument--this unseen
listener--recorded and bore witness to your confession; and this is a
Recorder you do not own, and cannot buy!"

CHAPTER XX

THE CREVICE

"But I don't understand"--Guy Morrow's voice was plaintive, and he
eyed his chief reproachfully, as he stood before Blaine's desk,
twisting his hat nervously--"why you didn't nail him! You've got the
goods on him, all right; and now, just because you only had him
arrested on a charge of assault with intent to kill, he's gone and
used his influence, and got himself released under heavy bail. Oh, why
won't you go heeled or guarded? We can't afford to lose you, sir, any
of us, and now he'll do for you, as sure as shooting!"

"Who--Carlis?" Blaine spoke almost absently, as if the portentous
scene of two hours before had already almost slipped from his memory.
"Oh, he won't get away, and I'm not afraid of him! I let him go for
the same reason that I didn't have Mallowe arrested this morning--for
the same reason why I haven't stopped Paddington's philandering with
the French girl, Fifine: because a link is still missing in the chain;
the shell, the exterior of the whole conspiracy is in the hollow of my
hand, but I can't find the chink, the crevice into which to insert my
lever and split it apart, lay the whole dastardly scheme irrefutably
open to the light of day. I want to complete my case: in other words,
Guy--I want to win!"

"And you will, sir; you've never failed yet! Only I--I don't have any
luck!" The young man's haggard face grew wistful. "I want Emily
Brunell; I need her--and I seem farther from finding her than ever!"

"I didn't know that was your job!" the detective objected, with a
brusqueness which was not unkind. "I told you I'd take care of that,
in my own way. I thought I assigned you to the task of finding out who
fired at you, from the darkened window of your own room, when you were
in Brunell's house across the street; also I wanted a line on those
two mysterious boarders of Mrs. Quinlan's."

"Nothing doing on either count, sir," Morrow returned, ruefully. "I
can't get a glimpse of them, or a line on either of them; and as for
who tried to plug me--well, there isn't an iota of evidence, that I
can discover, beyond the bare