" _ ~ ■
The Black Menace
By ARTHUR B. REEVE
ff- " ..-■
{Chapter 10..
"I’d like to go over to
IClare’s," decided Craig energet
ically, no longer thinking of the
lateness of our fatigue.
Accordingly it was not many
minutes later that we arrived at
the apartment and were admit
ted by the hall boy.
At once Kennedy began a has
ty search. The letter for the
Ejsent at least, offered no help.
t it was not long before Ken
nedy had brought to light one
very significant thing,
n Clare’s maid had disappeared.
^Baareh pf thg maid’s room dis
closed that she <had left in a
Eeat hurry, also. She had not
d time to remove her effects
yet she had evidently taken
what she considered most val
Bsble. Everything indicated that
she bad gone in haste, perhaps
expecting never to return. It
was ominous.
TRYING TO FIND A CLUB
On the other hand, there was
•very evidence that Clare had
also left in haste with the expec
tation of coming back again
ioon.
Kennedy turned his attention
more particularly to the maid’s
room and there began a more
Biinuto search. An exclamation
from him attracted our atten
tion. There, tucked away in a
corner of a bureau drawer he
had discovered six loaded cart
ridges.
Speed examined them. “From
Clare’s gun that I gave her,'' he
exclaimed.
Kennedy by this time had up
turned a small box of blanks.
As we looked at them to our
amazement so much was evident,
fhe maid must have been in the
secret employ of the Black Men •
aee. Site had taken out the real
cartridges from Clare’s pistol
and had substituted blanks.
Another search of Clare’s
voom showed that the pistol was
gone. Clearly she must have
taken it to protect herself.
The deduction was easy.
Somehow she had been trapped,
drawn into an ambush as it
»'ere, in an attack of some kind.
The eubstituted blanks had left
her helpless.
What might have happened to
kerf There was no clue l
Chapter XI.
THE FORGED NOTE.
Morning came but with it no
word yet from Clare. Nor was
th jre any clue as to the where
abouts of Minnie Oakleigh, if, by
shanee the use of her name
Might have meant anything. Tel
Sraphic inquiry developed that
e had left Palm Beach three
days before. She had had plenty
of time to reach New York, yet
we knew that she was not at
home.
What were wo to do? Quickly
Kennedy reviewed the events of
the previous night.
“One thing stands out,” he re
Marked, “Somehow, I’m con
vinced that there was an ^effort
to keep us out at Heaton Hills
while Clare was carried off. And
Breshkaya knows more about it
than we think. I can’t see any
thing to do but to watch her.
We borrowed a roadster from
Speed, accordingly, and insti
tuted a very quiet and careful
shadowing of Breshkaya. Evi
dently her perturbation out at
the Mansion of Mystery the
night of the kidnaping had some
Meaning and Kennedy was de
'iermined to discover what it
We found out that she lived
in a very fashionable apartment
on Central Park West, and took
*p a position on the corner be
l»w it where we could see with
out being seen. There was, of
coarse, the front entrance, but
there was also a back entrance
down the side street, aq,d we
knew that we would have to
wateh both, if she suspected
Chat someone was shadowing
From our point of vantage we
oould see both entrances, and if
she left by the front entrance
sho need never know we were
Wishing; if by the back en
tHMce, she might see us if we
did not catch sight of her first.
A QUIET PLACE
But there was no evidence
ghat she even suspected that she
Was being watched. It was very
quiet about her apartment, yet
3 was sure that the quietness
was only on the surface. The
longer we watched the more
8
convinced we were that we
were at last on the right track.
Iireshkaya was very excited
over something.
No one who has never been
upon a shadowing job knows
the difficulty of even such a
simple task as we had set our
selves. It is most irksome to
keep one’s attention glued on
one spot and at the same time
be alert for other things that
may happen. Even if the person
shadowed does not know it, he
may slip out just that instant of
relaxation, and once out your
attention being fixed rather on
the entrance that the street a
couple of houses away, the
quarry is as good as gone. Ac-f
cordingly Kennedy and I took
turns in. watching the entrances
and we knew that she had not
got away.
It was early in the forenoon
that we were rewarded by see
ing Breshkaya’s speedster driv
en up to the door b^ her chauf
feur, who entered. Breshkaya
came out hurriedly, dismissed
the driver, who turned to walk
back to the garage, and shot
away in the big car alone.
But we were prepared. Our
engine was already running and
our car was after her in a mo
ment. *
It was a hard chase through
traffic up town at just that
hour, but we managed to stick
to her, in spite of traffic police,
until she turned down to the
Fort Lee Ferry. Then I began
to have doubts of our ability to
hang on to her without being
seen.
However, Kennedy managed
to jockey his car about at the
ferry, which fortunately was
waiting, in such a way that we
went on the opposite side of the
boat from her, back of her in
position and separated by the
middle partition.
FOLLOWING CLOSE
Again at the other side when
she struck off from the ferry
and up the hill we got away
without being observed in the
press of cars, and we nosed
along behind her for some miles,
until it was evident that she was
taking the road that led up the
Hudson.
“The worst is over now, I
hope,” he remarked, as we spun
along after her speedster, which
she handled very deftly, show
ing that she was no slouch of a
driver herself.
On she reeled off the miles,
town after town, and we man
aged to keep pretty close to her
without missing her once. It was
just a bit easier too, because she
was sticking to the generally
travelled road up through Jersey
to New York, along the river.
It was a beautiful ride, but we
had no time to waste on the
pleasure of it, for we had to
beep that car in sight. As the
miles piled up, at last it became
evident that she was bound
somewhere in the direction of
the State Park along the High
lands. We stuck along after her,
neither of us saying much, for
we were sure, by this time, that
it had something to do with the
Black Menace or at least and
perhaps better with the where
abouts of Clare.
We entered the State Park,
as we had anticipated, but there
was no slackening of the pace
for Breshkaya.
She was making splendid time
now over the State road through
the park, when it seemed that
there was some engine trouble.
She stopped short and Kennedy
had not the time to stop and wait
behind her, unnoticed.
A quick decision must be
made. If we passed her, the
chances were all in favor of her
seeing and recognizing us, if in
deed she did not appeal to us, as
the first motorists for assistance.
If we stopped she would infalli
bly see us.
JUST A CHANCE
lhere was just one chance.
Between us was a dirt cross
road, perhaps a hundred feet
behind her. Kennedy swung and
turned down it.
“Confound her!” he mut
tered.
I looked sidewise out of the
corner of my eye as our top cut
us off from her sight. She had
climbed out from behind her
wheel and, as luck would have
it, just at the moment that we
turned she was looking baek to
see if anyone was coming. There
was not, as far as I could see,
any sign of recognition, but then
the woman was too clever to
have given it if she had so
chosen.
I tried to reassure Kennedy,
but he was not to be convinced.
“She saw us all right,” he in
sisted. “Don’t fool yourself.”
lie stopped down the cross
road and pulled back to the
main road stopping short of com
ing up to it, where we could be
seen again beyond a country
hedge.
“Go ahead on foot, Walter,”
he demanded. “Don’t let her see
you looking, but find out wheth
re she is there yet. I doubt it.
And if it comes to a mere test
sof speed, she can outrun this.”
I jumped out and crept ahead,
peering about and through the
way she had gone. Only some
simple adjustment must have
been necessary, or perhaps noth
ing at all.
“We’ve lost her this time,”
growled Kennedy, in vexation,
us be shot the car ahead around
almost on two wheels into the
main road again, and away.
As he expected, at the next
fork in the road, she had ar
rived so far ahead of us that not
even a trace of her was to be
seen. We looked up. There were
signs that read: “Two miles to
Rockcliff,” and “Three miles to
Neightsville.” “Which way had
she gone?”
SEVERAL ROADS
Kennedy did not waste time
debating which of the two
choices to make. Reasoning that
she had stuck close to the river
so far and was likely to do still,
he swung to the right, and we
found that this road did indeed
skirt close to the road, though
high up.
There were several roads that
ran down to the river. But
whether she had gone on up the
river further or whether she had
turned down one of the roads
there was no clue at all now. She
was even too clever to leave the
tell-tale low-hanging cloud of
dust on a side road, showing
that a car had passed.
1 m sure 1 m right, mur
mured Kennedy. “But Bresh
kaya has escaped us.”
He pursued ahead a couple of
miles, but it was apparent that
we were now getting nowhere;
Nothing but a thorough search
of the neighborhood of the river
from this point on up would be
likely to net us anything, and
for that we were not immediate
ly prepared.
“It’s a clue, though!” he
cried, trying cheerfully to buoy
up my own flagging spirits.
“Suppose that somewhere in
this wild region about Rock
cliff there may be a hut or shan
ty on the mountainside which is
really a secret hiding place?
Could it not be that it is there
that Clare has been abducted?”
There was nothing to do but
to return to the city for the '
present, meet Speed, and pre
pare for a more thorough seareh
of the region. Reluctantly we
turned back, while Kennedy de
vised means of prosecuting the
search.
Evidently there was more
than the Mystery Mansion to the
Black Menace band. And as we
returned I reflected on what
small value it seemed to be even
to catch one of the band, when
no sooner was he caught than
his lips were sealed, as in the
case of Wei-ner.
It seemed almost as though
our very absence from the city
was doomed to bring disaster
either to Clare or someone con
nected with her.
When we returned our first
impulse was to seek out Speed
and tell him what we had uncovt
ered. We called up the Star, but
they told us that he had not been
there. It seemed strange, for in
his hunt for Clare one would
have thought that he would take
advantage, first of all, of his
newspaper connection. Indeed, if
I had not considered that that
would have been done by. him I
should have gone down to the
btar myself.
VERY SUSPICIOUS
We lost no time in hustling
around to his apartment. There
we found his valet, James, who
told us that his master had re
ceived a note from a Mrs. Oak
leigh and had just left to keep
an appointment.
“Where’s the note!” demand
ed Kennedy, who by _ this time
was becoming suspicious of all
servants.
The valet opened a small writ
ing desk and took it out. “Just
after he left,’’ he added, hand
ing the note to us, “Mr. Ra venal
came in. He asked where Mr.
Speed was, just as you did, and
I told him. He shoek his head
and hurried away.
Kennedy read the note quick
ly.
“Mr. Speeds
You can learn something to
your advantage by meeting m«
out at the Trocadero Inn at
Eastbury.”
Mina Oakleigh.”
As he read it, Kennedy studied
the note critically. “Why
should anyone be trying to get
him out on Long Island, when
we know”—He checked himself
before lie said anything before
James. “Where did Mr. Speed
go 7”
“To the train, sir,” replied the
valet. “You had his roadster,
and the other car is laid up to
day.”
Kennedy seized the telephone
and called the station. There
was still a minute or two before
the Eastbury train pulled out.
Frantically he called and finally
managed to have a porter sent
down to pass through the train
with a message to Speed, if he
were on it.
“Why the haste?” I asked
Craig, when the valet left the
room on some errand.
He pointed to the note. “A
forgery,” he commented, pull
ing another from his pocket.
“Here’s the message that wai
sent to Clare last night. The
writing is not even the same.
A clever ruse, but it is a false
scent—a trap.”
A PALPABLE TRAP
We waited anxiously. There
was not a chance that we might
get to the station in time to
catch Jack. If he got away on
the train, we might catch him at
the Eastbury station in time to
prevent any actual harm, but it
meant that he was unable to
help us for some hours on our
Rockcliff hunt, and hours were
precious on that.
The telephone rang and Ken
nedy seized it. Not only by the
staccato conversation, but by
the look of relief on his face, I
knew that his prompt measures
had been in time. It was Speed,
and he was now on his way back
to US.
It was a sheer piece of luck
that we had prevented Jack
from following the false clue
that might have led him directly i
into danger. The Trocadero Inn |
was a-place to watch, but not '
now'. He was saved for the real
search. They had almost got
him—but not quite.
A quarter of an hour later
Jack burst in on us, all excite
ment and Kennedy rapidly told
what he had uncovered.
“Then let us search up there,”
cried Speed, as we concluded the
story of trailing Breshkaya, to
his amazement.
“I’ll meet you at the Labora
tory in half an hour,” planned.
Kennedy. “If it is to be a night
search there’s something I want!
to take along. You bring the
roadster up, Jack.”
There was a tap at the door.
It was Ravenal, bustling and im
portant.
“So—you’re back?” he asked,
catching sight of Speed. “I came
here to tell you that I had a
brand new clue, but James said
you had gone. Then I tried to
beat you to the station, but I
must have missed you, though I
heard your name paged. I’m off
for a day or so on this thing,”
added Ravenal rather proudly.
“Perhaps I may be wrong, but
at least I think I have a hint
and I’m going to try it out. If it
fails—no matter. If it succeeds
then the credit is mine.”
A QUICK GLANCE
Speed shot a quick glance at
Kennedy, but Kennedy shook his
head' as if to caution silence. I
wondered whether, after all,
there might not be a tinge of
professional jealousy in the
young detective’s nature. One
could hardly have blamed him.
To have beaten Kennedy and to
have all the credit was surely
not to be scorned. Nor was it
the first time that we had found
detectives persistent in follow
ing out their own interpretation
of cases.
Kennedy excused himself,
leaving Speed and me with Rav
enal, who soon took his de
parture.
As for us, it made little dif
ference whether he played a
lone hand or oo-operated with
us.
(To be continued next week.)
FIRE PUTS BOOZE
VENDER OFF GUARD
Hammond. Ind.—Frank Gataa
rlch, Hammond saloon keeper, be
lieves the story about the curious
cat now.
Police had been after Frank for
some time, but sever could And
anything wrong with his plecs.
Then they turned fu a Are
•a'tarm from opposite (is saloon.
While Frank was outside to see
what it^was all about, the coppers
slipped in the back way of the
safoon and found two quarts of
•moonshine.
Frank rode to jail on the fire
truck.
PEACE IN IRELAND.
THE world rejoices that the Irish
question 13 at last settled. A
•unning sore of many centuries’
standing is thus healed. Britain has
immeasurably strengthened herself
throughout civilization and especial
ly wherever Irishmen and their de
scendants are settled. The Irish
peace has a peculiar significance for
America, whose citizenry embraces
millions of Irish blood. The rancor
with which Americans of Irish de
scent have regarded Britain may now
be expected to abate, preparing the
way for a more wholehearted con
cord between Britain and the United
States. And so a feeling of blessed
relief settles over America, as, it
may be taken for granted, a similar
feeling settles over the whole British
commonwealth of nations.
And from the settlement there
emerges a much greater Lloyd
George—great as he has hitherto
been. His patience, his courage, his
finesse, have been the most potent
factors in bringing about an agree
ment. Spectacularly, just when nearly
everyone had given up hope, peace
was concluded. It is a typical Lloyd
George denouement, surprising, over
whelming.
Of greatest moment to the out
side world are not the terms of the
agreement—though they are import
ant enough—but the fact that the
pact is satisfactory to the Irish in
Ireland and the British in Britain. It
matters not a whit what a rabid
Orangeman in New York or a rabid
Sinn Feiner in San Francisco thinks
about it. The parties really concerned
are those who must live under the
settlement.
Ireland, It appears, is to be a free
state, with a status resembling some
what that of Canada. She must bear
her share of the national war debt.
She must give reasonable guarantees
to the unionist minority in southern
Ireland. Her legislators must swear
allegiance to the king and his suc
cessors “In virtue of the common
citizenship of Ireland and Great Brit
ain and her adherence to and mem
bership in the group of nations form
ing the British commonwealth of na
tions.”
Ulster is tp be given a month in
which to decide whether she will
cast her lot with the Irish free state.
If she decides adversely a commis
sion will set to work to define her
southern boundary so as, presumably,
to include in the new free state as
many as possible of those portions of
Ulster which wish to be so Included.
Apparently this boundary matter is
the whip with which it is hoped to
force an agreement from northern
Ireland.
The settlement must yet be rati
fied by the British parliament and the
Irish dail. Ulster’s ratification is
not necessary. If parliament fails to
ratify, the British government inti
mates that it will take the matter to
the people.
Signs are not wanting that Ulster
will ultimately acquiesce in becoming
part of a united Irish nation. Ulster
will not be long in finding out that it
will be to her advantage economically
to belong part and parcel to the
Irish state, once the Irish state is
functioning.
MORONS AND SEX.
♦*,^»ear *-*ee: You may remember
mat one day last summer you and I
walked over town together, Whether
you do or not, let me freshen your mem
ory further.
As we crossed the boulevard, a girl
waa a *ew feet ahead of us. She wore
a skirt. In appearance something like
those worn by the Hawaiian girls who
dance on the stage. You no doubt know
that this kind of a skirt intensifies a
certain shaking effect.
You will recall that this girl’s skirt
was shorter than my description of it.
You gave it the once over, because
that s what If was there for, and your
comment was: Such women are making
morons of the men.”
That s what I am writing to you about,
Guy Lee.
I'0U are so brilliant that you splash
ail over the paper from disarmament
conferences to pup shows.
I am never surprised when I And your
stunt in the paper.
^ ou can report a sermon and double
as a society editor, and not cause one to
turn a hair.
You are grand, high everything else
around this place. Guy, but you got this
moron business wrong.
Morons, like poets, are bom, not made.
A moron is a feebleminded person, and
people destined for feeblemindedness are
born with the place already mapped out
Inside them.
j 0 amount of looking* at barelegged
ladies could make any one feebleminded.
But that was only one way you are
wrong, Guy Lee.
Though you did not say It. your re
mark plainly indicated that you thought
there was some relation between sex
considerations and moronism, or feeble
mindedness.
Not so.
As a rule, the morons are undersexed
father than oversexed. If you go down
to the very bottom of the scale of feeble
mindedness. the subjects have no more
sex impulses than has a dead log. And
moronism is on the way In that direc
tion.
On the other hand, the man or woman
of compelling, masterful mind is apt to
be oversexed.
If that Is what you are looking for,
run down a list of financial wizards, cap
tains of finance, dominating statesmen,
political bosses, great queens—only to
mention a few groups.
Of course, Guy, a feebleminded fellow
is somewhat more likely to do foolish
sex things. Things so foolish that the
community' decides he must be a nut.
But what is more likely?
A feebleminded fellow is more liable
to get caught or, being caught, not be
able to buy his way out with monay,
power or Influence.
Now, that Is adtout all there is to say,
Guy.
Now. pleaa* don’t make that mistake
again
TRADE AND THE EMBARGO.
CONSIDERABLE sentiment la
coming to the fore in the Sen
ate in favor of granting the
president power to lay an embargo
on the importation of any article
“when it can be shown conclusively
that it is necessary for the protection
of American manufactures.” Mr.
Harding himself is said to have
urged it. It is aimed primarily at
the much feared inrush of German
products. It is to be hoped sincere
ly that the power will not be granted
unconditionally.
in the first place, It would be next
to impossible to “show conclusively”
that an embargo would be “necessary
for the protection of American manu
factures." The thing is far too com
plicated to permit of simple explica
tion, and the men who would be in a
position really to know the facts in
any particular case would be Just the
men to profit by the laying of an em
bargo. That their advice would be
unselfish is too much to expect.
Furthermore—and this is the most
damning argument against it—if an
American industry is to be protected
wholly from foreign competition,
what protection will be given the
American buying public from the
profiteering of the protected indus
try? A tariff at least sets a limit to
the prices which a home industry
may charge, for, if the prices exceed
the cost of importation, foreign goods
will pour in; whereas under an em
bargo foreign goods can’t come in
under any circumstances. The agri
cultural districts would pay the bill
again.
burely, then, If we are to have em
bargoes on the importation of cer
tain articles, prices must be fixed at
which the American producers may
sell these articles. Otherwise the
American public would be bound
over hand and foot to the exploita
tion of the protected industries. And
there is no harder job for any gov
ernment than to fix equitable prices.
Congress could have scientific, un
biased advice and information to
guide it in its tariff policy if it would
call upon the nonpartisan tariff
board and the federal trade commis
sion to furnish facts on which to
build tariffs. But congress will give
neither a fair hearing, preferring to
listen to the professional lobbyists
of big contributors to campaign
funds.
However, if the president is to be
given discretionary power over tariffs,
then he should be instructed to con
fer with and be guided by the tariff
commission’s findings when pleas are
made by American manufacturers for
“protection.”
Executive power of embargo is a
war measure, and cannot be Justified
in peace times.
_ 1
"Tho Twelve."
(This poem, celebrating, in one of tho
most radical of English labor news
papers, the death of Alexander Block,
chief among the poets of the Russian t
revolution, takes its name from his most I
famous poem, "The Twelve." It deplctsi
the religious fervor with which the
“Reds" regard their cause, a fanaticism
blind to all that opposes them.)
Twelve soldiers of the Red Army
Marching
Like the black shadows of gaunt birds
Over the snow;
Twelve soldiers of the Red Army
Staggering over the snow.
With hunger in their bellies
And ice in their bones,
But in their hearts
Fire, and a tempestuous indignation.
And resolution like a burning sword.
And Death welcoming them
Like a bride.
This was the dream that you dreamed,
Alexander Block,
This was the vision that filled your eyes.
Looking out over the frozen Neva,
Over the pinnacles and towers of Pet
rograd,
The lost city,
Over the echoing and desolate palaces
of the Tsar’s mistresses.
This, in hunger and despair of life,
Abandoned by happiness and the illu
sory phantom
Of the world-wide brotherhood of tho
sons of man.
This you saw:
Twelve soldiers in the snowy desolation.
And, stumbling before them,
In pride of their pride
And pity of their pity,
Jesus
The Son of God.
First of the revolutionary poets
Of the first Revolution!
Your dust lies now in the lost city
Of the corruption of the Romanoffs,
In the corrupted city purified and mads
clean
By the Blood of the Red Army
And the poems of Alexander Block.
And singers of the Revolution as yet un
born.
Singing their songs of unrest by the
forge and the loom.
Expelling the fetid air of serfdom with
a great breath,
Singers who never knew you.
To whom you were nothing, not even a
name,
Will yet see in your Twelve Soldiers
The twelve disciples of the Lord,
And will remember.
Long after the Red Army is as dust
On the endless Russian plains.
The twelve black shapes on the snow,
And the phantom figure moving in pity
and anguish
(Risen again after his countless cruci
fixions)
To lead the army of the sons of slaves
Out of bondage.
They, everywhere.
In all continents and cities.
In the dark factory and peasant’s hovel.
Who are about to die,
Salute you,
Alexander Block,
Dead poet of the Revolution.
—George Slocombe, in London Daily
Herald.
It is said that Germany is success
fully subsidizing her foreign trade,
by subsidizing bread and coal, by
aiding the railroads, and by restrict
ing rents. If the formula for pros
perity is as simple as this why don’t
other nations it?
