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THE MILLION DOLLAR MYSTERY
THE MILLION DOLLAR MYSTERY
Novelized from the Scenario of F. LONERGAN BY HAROLD MACGRATH AUTHOR OF THE MAN ON THE BOX, THE GOOSE GIRL, HEARTS AND MASKS, ETC. PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTO PLAY GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS : NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1915 HAROLD MACGRATH Published by arrangement with The Bobbs-Merrill Company . LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS The paper she had purloined was indeed blank . . . . . . Frontispiece. Miss Farlow's Private School You might have marked him for a successful lawyer. The P
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CHAPTER I
CHAPTER I
There are few things darker than a country road at night, particularly if one does not know the lay of the land. It is not difficult to traverse a known path; no matter how dark it is, one is able to find the way by the aid of a mental photograph taken in the daytime. But supposing you have never been over the road in the daytime, that you know nothing whatever of its topography, where it dips or rises, where it narrows or forks. You find yourself in the same unhappy state of mind as a blind man
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CHAPTER II
CHAPTER II
Vroon faced Hargreave's butler somberly. The one reason why Braine made this man his lieutenant was because Vroon always followed the letter of his instructions to the final period; he never sidestepped or added any frills or innovations of his own, and because of this very automatism he rarely blundered into a trap. If he failed it was for the simple fact that the master mind had overlooked some essential detail. The organization of the Black Hundred was almost totally unknown to either the pub
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CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
The countess did not remain long after the departure of the police with the bogus detectives. It had been a very difficult corner to wriggle out of, all because Braine had added to his plans after she had left the apartment. But for the advent of the meddling reporter the coup would have succeeded, herself apparently perfectly innocent of complicity. That must be the keynote of all her plans: to appear quite innocent and leave no trail behind her. She had gained the confidence of Florence and he
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CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
Braine crawled from his uncomfortable hiding place. His clothes were soiled and damp, his hat was gone. By a hair's breadth he had escaped the clever trap laid for him. Hargreave was alive, he had escaped; Braine was as certain of this fact as he was of his own breathing. He now knew how to account for the flickering light in the upper story of the warehouse. His ancient enemy had been watching him all the time. More than this, Hargreave and the meddling reporter were in collusion. In the flare
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CHAPTER V
CHAPTER V
"Gone!" Jones kept saying to himself that he must strive to be calm, to think, think. Despite all his warnings, the warnings of Norton, she had tricked them and run away. It was maddening. He wanted to rave, tear his hair, break things. He tramped the hall. It would be wasting time to send for the police. They would only putter about fruitlessly. The Black Hundred knew how to arrange these abductions. How had they succeeded in doing it? No one had entered the house that day without his being pre
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CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VI
"Did you get the range?" asked the countess, when that night Braine recounted his adventure. "Range!" he snarled. "My girl, haven't I just told you that I had to fight for my life? My boat was in flames. We had to swim for it till we were picked up by a Long Island barge tug. I don't know what became of the motorman. He must have headed straight for shore. And I'm glad he did. Otherwise he'd be howling for the price of another boat. Olga, for the first time I've had to let one of the boys have a
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CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VII
When all three finally met at the Hargreave home Florence suddenly took Jones by the shoulders and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Jones started back, pale and disturbed. Norton laughed. He did not feel the slightest twinge of jealousy, but he was eaten up with envy, as the old wives say. "You are wondering if I suspect the Countess Perigoff?" said Jones. "I am." This man Jones was developing into a very remarkable character. The reporter found himself side glancing at the thin, keen face of th
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CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER VIII
After the affair of the auto bandits—three of whom were killed—a lull followed. If you're a sailor you know what kind of a lull I mean—blue-black clouds down the southwest horizon, the water crinkly, the booms wabbling. Suddenly a series of "accidents" began to happen to Norton. At first he did not give the matter much thought. The safe which fell almost at his feet and crashed through the sidewalk merely induced him to believe he was lucky. At another time an automobile came furiously around a
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CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER IX
So far as Jones was concerned, he was rather pleased with the turn of affairs. This was no time for love-making; no time for silly, innocuous quarrels and bickerings, in which love must indulge or die. Florence no longer rode horseback, and Norton returned to his accustomed haunts, where no one made the slightest attempt upon his life. In his present state of mind he would have welcomed it. "What's the matter with Jim?" asked the night city editor, raising his eye shade. "I don't know," answered
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CHAPTER X
CHAPTER X
It was perfectly true that Florence had cast herself into the sea. It had not been an act of despair, however. On the contrary, hope and courage had prompted her to leap. The night was clear, with only a moderate sea running. At the time the great ship was passing the banks, and almost within hail, she saw a fishing schooner riding gracefully at anchor. She quite readily believed that if she remained on board the George Washington she was lost. She naturally forgot the marvel of wireless telegra
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CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XI
When Jones received the telegram that Florence was safe, the iron nerve of the man broke down. The suspense had been so keenly terrible that the sudden reaction left him almost hysterically weak. Three weeks of waiting, waiting. Not even the scoundrel and his wife who had been the principal actors in the abduction had been found. From a great ship in midocean they had disappeared. Doubtless they had hidden among the immigrants, who, for little money, would have fooled all the officers on board.
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CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XII
A dipsy-chanty, if you please; of sailormen in jerseys and tarry caps, of rolling gaits, strong tobacco and diverse profanity; of cutters, and blunt-nosed schooners, and tramps, canvas and steam, some of them honest, some of them shady, and some of them pirates of the first water who did not find it necessary to hoist aloft the skull and bones. The seas are dotted with them. They remind you of the once prosperous merchant, run down at the heel, who slinks along the side streets, ashamed to meet
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CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIII
The Black Hundred, not as individuals but as an organization, began to worry. Powerful, and often reckless and daring because it was powerful, it began to look about for some basic cause for all these failures against Hargreave's daughter and Hargreave's ghost. They had tried to put the inquisitive reporter out of the way; they had laid every trap they could think of to catch the mysterious visitor at the Hargreave home; they had thrown out a hundred lures to bring Hargreave out of his lair, and
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CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XIV
Perhaps the most amusing phase of the secret agent's discomfiture was the fact that neither Jones nor Florence had the least idea what had happened. Florence regretted a hundred times during the evening that she had not gone out to the summer house. It might really have been her father. Her regret grew so deep in her that just before going to bed she confessed to Jones. "You received a letter of that sort and did not show it to me?" said Jones, astonished. "You warned me never to pay any attenti
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CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XV
If the truth is to be told, Jones was as deeply chagrined over the outcome of the counterfeit deal as was Braine. They had both failed signally to reach the goal sought. But this time the organization had broken even with Jones, and this fact disturbed the butler. It might signify that the turning point had been reached, and that in the future the good luck might swing over to the side of the Black Hundred. Jones redoubled his cautions, reiterated his warnings, and slept less than ever. Indeed,
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CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVI
The maid stole into the house, wondering if she had been seen. She wanted to be loyal to this girl, but she was tired of the life; she wanted to be her own mistress, and the small fortune offered her would put her on the way to realize her ambition. What had she not seen and been of life since she joined the great detective force! Lady's maid, cook, ship stewardess, flash woman, actress, clerk, and a dozen other employments. Her pay, until she secured some fat reward, was but twelve hundred a ye
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CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVII
The Black Hundred possessed three separate council chambers, always in preparation. Hence, when the one in use was burned down they transferred their conferences to the second council chamber appointed identically the same as the first. As inferred, the organization owned considerable wealth, and they leased the buildings in which they had their council chambers, leased them for a number of years, and refurnished them secretly with trap floors, doors and panels and all that apparatus so necessar
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CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XVIII
About this time—that is to say, about the time the Black Hundred was stretching out its powerful secret arms toward Norton—there arrived in New York city a personage. This personage was the Princess Parlova, a fabulously rich Polish Russian. She leased a fine house near Central Park and set about to conquer social New York. This was not very difficult, for her title was perfectly genuine and she moved in the most exclusive diplomatic circle in Europe, which, as everybody knows, is the most brill
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CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XIX
Florence was a fortnight in recovering from the shock of her experience at the masked ball of the Princess Parlova, who, by the way, disappeared from New York shortly after the fire, no doubt because of her fear of the Black Hundred. The fire did not destroy the house, but most of the furnishings were so thoroughly drenched by water that they were practically ruined. Her coming and going were a nine-days' wonder, and then the public found something else to talk about. Norton was a constant visit
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CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XX
"What I want now," said Braine, as he paced the living-room of the apartment of the countess, "is revenge. I've been checkmated enough, Olga; they're playing with us." "That is nothing new," she replied, shrugging. "At the beginning I warned you. I never liked this affair after the first two or three failures. But you would have your way. You wanted revenge at that early date; but I can not see that you've gone forward. Has it ever occurred to you that the organization may be getting tired, too?
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CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXI
Jim said nothing at first about his adventure to Jones, whom he met half an hour later. "Was it necessary to keep that invisible letter?" he asked. "No," said Jones. "Would it have given our affairs a serious turn if it had fallen into alien hands?" "Decidedly," answered Jones. "It would mean flight for the Black Hundred or a long time under cover, if our friend Braine learned that Russia was now taking an active interest in the doings of the Black Hundred. And eventually all our work would have
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CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXII
The federal government agreed to say nothing, to put no obstacles in the way of the Russian agent, provided he could abduct his trio without seriously clashing with the New York police authorities. It was a recognized fact that the local police force wanted the newspaper glory which would attend the crushing of the Black Hundred. It would be an exploit. But their glory was nil; nor did Servan take his trio back with him to Russia. Many strange things happened that night, the night of the final a
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CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIII
It will be remembered that the Countess Olga had darted up the stairs during the struggle between Braine and his captors. The police who had followed her were recalled to pursue one of the lesser rogues. This left Olga free for a moment. She stole out and down as far as the landing. Servan, the Russian agent, stood waiting for the taxi-cab to roll up to the porte-cochère for himself, Braine and Vroon. Norton had taken Florence by the hand, ostensibly to conduct her to the million. Suddenly Brain
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A Sketch of the Author at Work and at Play
A Sketch of the Author at Work and at Play
Harold MacGrath, author of more than a dozen best sellers, the book of an operetta, and short stories without number, is a native of Syracuse, N. Y., having been born in that city on September 4, 1871, and lived there ever since, except when he is out circling the globe or in Gotham looking things over. Mr. MacGrath was a journalist before he essayed the higher form of literature that sells on a royalty basis, instead of by the yard, and he claims that he owes his start in "romancing" to a physi
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