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GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1915, By Little, Brown and Company....
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CHAPTER
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THE BLACK BOX Universal Photo Play Edition CAST OF CHARACTERS...
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Chapter I
Chapter I
Return to Table of Contents The young man from the west had arrived in New York only that afternoon, and his cousin, town born and bred, had already embarked upon the task of showing him the great city. They occupied a table in a somewhat insignificant corner of one of New York’s most famous roof-garden restaurants. The place was crowded with diners. There were many notabilities to be pointed out. The town young man was very busy. “See that bunch of girls on the right?” he asked. “They are all f
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1.
1.
“This habit of becoming late for breakfast,” Lady Ashleigh remarked, as she set down the coffee-pot, “is growing upon your father.” Ella glanced up from a pile of correspondence through which she had been looking a little negligently. “When he comes,” she said, “I shall tell him what Clyde says in his new play—that unpunctuality for breakfast and overpunctuality for dinner are two of the signs of advancing age.” “I shouldn’t,” her mother advised. “He hates anything that sounds like an epigram, a
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2.
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Lord Ashleigh, who in many respects was a typical Englishman of his class, had a constitutional affection for small ceremonies, an affection nurtured by his position as Chairman of the County Magistrates and President of the local Unionist Association. After dinner that evening, a meal which was served in the smaller library, he cleared his throat and filled his glass with wine. His manner, as he addressed his wife and daughter, was almost official. “I am to take it, I believe,” he began, “that
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3.
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The streets of New York were covered with a thin, powdery snow as the very luxurious car of Mrs. Delarey drew up outside the front of the Leeland Hotel, a little after midnight. Ella leaned over and kissed her hostess. “Thank you, dear, ever so much for your delightful dinner,” she exclaimed, “and for bringing me home. As for the music, well, I can’t talk about it. I am just going upstairs into my room to sit and think.” “Don’t sit up too late and spoil your pretty colour, dear,” Mrs. Delarey ad
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4.
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There seemed to be nothing at all original in the methods pursued by the great criminologist when confronted with this tableau of death and robbery. His remarks to the Inspector were few and perfunctory. He asked only a few languid questions of Macdougal and Lenora, who were summoned to his presence. “You had left the hotel, I understand, at the time when the crime occurred?” he asked the latter. Macdougal, grave and respectful, made his answers with difficulty. His voice was choked with emotion
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5.
5.
Sanford Quest was naturally a person unaffected by presentiments or nervous fears of any sort, yet, having advanced a couple of yards along the hallway of the house which he had just entered without difficulty, he came to a standstill, oppressed with the sense of impending danger. With his electric torch he carefully surveyed the dilapidated staircase in front of him, the walls from which the paper hung down in depressing-looking strips. The house was, to all appearances, uninhabited. The door h
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1.
1.
Sanford Quest and Lenora stood side by side upon the steps of the Courthouse, waiting for the automobile which had become momentarily entangled in a string of vehicles. A little crowd of people were elbowing their way out on to the sidewalk. The faces of most of them were still shadowed by the three hours of tense drama from which they had just emerged. Quest, who had lit a cigar, watched them curiously. “No need to go into Court,” he remarked. “I could have told you, from the look of these peop
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2.
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The windows of Mrs. Rheinholdt’s town house were ablaze with light. A crimson drugget stretched down the steps to the curbstone. A long row of automobiles stood waiting. Through the wide-flung doors was visible a pleasant impression of flowers and light and luxury. In the nearer of the two large reception rooms Mrs. Rheinholdt herself, a woman dark, handsome, and in the prime of life, was standing receiving her guests. By her side was her son, whose twenty-first birthday was being celebrated. “I
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1.
1.
Mr. Sanford Quest sat in his favourite easy-chair, his cigar inclined towards the left hand corner of his mouth, his attention riveted upon a small instrument which he was supporting upon his knee. So far as his immobile features were capable of expression, they betrayed now, in the slight parting of his lips and the added brightness of his eyes, symptoms of a lively satisfaction. He glanced across the room to where Lenora was bending over her desk. “We’ve done it this time, young woman,” he dec
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2.
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The exact spot where the bone of the missing skeleton was discovered, was easily located. It was about twenty yards from a gate which led into the back part of the Professor’s grounds. The neighbourhood was dreary in the extreme. There were half-finished houses, little piles of building materials, heaps of stones, a watchman’s shed, and all the dreary paraphernalia of an abandoned building enterprise. Quest wasted very little time before arriving at a decision. “The discovery of the bone so near
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1.
1.
Sanford Quest was smoking his after breakfast cigar with a relish somewhat affected by the measure of his perplexities. Early though it was, Lenora was already in her place, bending over her desk, and Laura, who had just arrived, was busy divesting herself of her coat and hat. Quest watched the latter impatiently. “Well?” he asked. Laura came forward, straightening her hair with her hands. “No go,” she answered. “I spent the evening in the club and I talked with two men who knew Craig, but I cou
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2.
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Mrs. Rheinholdt welcomed the Inspector with a beaming smile as he stepped out of his office and approached her automobile. “How nice of you to be so punctual, Mr. French,” she exclaimed, making room for him by her side. “Will you tell the man to drive to Mr. Quest’s house in Georgia Square?” The Inspector obeyed and took his place in the luxurious limousine. “How beautifully punctual we are!” she continued, glancing at the clock. “Inspector, I am so excited at the idea of getting my jewels back.
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1.
1.
For the moment a new element had been introduced into the horror of the little tableau. All eyes were fixed upon Quest, who had listened to the Inspector’s dubious words with a supercilious smile upon his lips. “Perhaps,” he suggested, “you would like to ask me a few questions?” “Perhaps I may feel it my duty to do so,” the Inspector replied gravely. “In the first place, then, Mr. Quest, will you kindly explain the condition of your clothes?” Quest looked down at himself quickly. More than ever
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2.
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Craig’s surprise was real enough as he opened the back door of the Professor’s house on the following morning and found Lenora standing on the threshold. “I am very sorry, Miss Lenora,” he apologised. “The front door bell must be out of order. I certainly didn’t hear it ring. Mr. Ashleigh is in his study, if you wish to see him.” Lenora smiled pleasantly. “To tell you the truth,” she said, “I really do not want to see him,—at least, not just yet. I came to this door because I wanted a little tal
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1.
1.
With a little gesture of despair, Quest turned away from the instrument which seemed suddenly to have become so terribly unresponsive, and looked across the vista of square roofs and tangled masses of telephone wires to where the lights of larger New York flared up against the sky. From his attic chamber, the roar of the City a few blocks away was always in his ears. He had forgotten in those hours of frenzied solitude to fear for his own safety. He thought only of Lenora. Under which one of tho
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2.
2.
The Professor swung round in his chair and greeted Quest with some surprise but also a little disappointment. “No news of Craig?” he asked. Quest sank into a chair. He was fresh from the Turkish baths and was enjoying the luxury of clean linen and the flavour of an excellent cigar. “I got Craig all right,” he replied. “He came to the Servants’ Club where I was waiting for him. My luck’s out, though. The place was burnt to the ground last night. I saved his life and then the brute gave me away to
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1.
1.
Something in the nature of a conference was proceeding in Quest’s study. The Professor was there, seated in the most comfortable easy-chair, smoking without relish one of his host’s best cigars, watching with nervous impatience the closed door. Laura and Lenora were seated at the table, dressed for the street. They had the air of being prepared for some excursion. Quest, realising the Professor’s highly-strung state, had left him alone for a few moments and was studying a map of New York. The la
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2.
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The Professor roused himself from what had apparently been a very gloomy reverie. “Well,” he announced, “I must go home. It has been very kind of you, Mr. Quest, to keep me here for so long.” Quest glanced at the clock. “Don’t hurry, Mr. Ashleigh,” he said. “We may get some news at any moment. French has a dozen men out on the search and he has promised to ring me up immediately he hears anything.” The Professor sighed. “A man,” he declared, “who for twenty years can deceive his master as utterl
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1.
1.
“Getting kind of used to these courthouse shows, aren’t you, Lenora?” Quest remarked, as they stepped from the automobile and entered the house in Georgia Square. Lenora shrugged her shoulders. She was certainly a very different-looking person from the tired, trembling girl who had heard Macdougal sentenced not many weeks ago. “Could anyone feel much sympathy,” she asked, “with those men? Red Gallagher, as they all called him, is more like a great brute animal than a human being. I think that ev
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2.
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The Professor rose from his seat in some excitement as the carriage passed through the great gates of Hamblin Park. He acknowledged with a smile the respectful curtsey of the woman who held it open. “You have now an opportunity, my dear Mr. Quest,” he said, “of appreciating one feature of English life not entirely reproducible in your own wonderful country. I mean the home life and surroundings of our aristocracy. You see these oak trees?” he went on, with a little wave of his hand. “They were p
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1.
1.
Quest, notwithstanding the unusual nature of his surroundings, slept that night as only a tired and healthy man can. He was awakened the next morning by the quiet movements of a man-servant who had brought back his clothes carefully brushed and pressed. He sat up in bed and discovered a small china tea equipage by his side. “What’s this?” he enquired. “Your tea, sir.” Quest drank half a cupful without protest. “Your bath is ready at any time, sir.” “I’m coming right along,” Quest replied, jumpin
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2.
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Quest stood, frowning, upon the pavement, gazing at the obviously empty house. He looked once more at the slip of paper which Lenora had given him. There was no possibility of any mistake:— “Mrs. Willet, 157 Elsmere Road, Hampstead.” This was 157 and the house was empty. After a moment’s hesitation he rang the bell at the adjoining door. A woman who had been watching him from the front room, answered the summons at once. “Can you tell me,” he enquired, “what has become of the lady who used to li
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Chapter XI
Chapter XI
Return to Table of Contents Quest leaned a little forward and gazed down the line of steamer chairs. The Professor, in a borrowed overcoat and cap, was reclining at full length, studying a book on seagulls which he had found in the library. Laura and Lenora were both dozing tranquilly. Mr. Harris of Scotland Yard was deep in a volume of detective stories. “As a pleasure cruise,” Quest remarked grimly, “this little excursion seems to be a complete success.” Laura opened her eyes at once. “Trying
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1.
1.
Quest was the first the next morning to open his eyes, to grope his way through the tent opening and stand for a moment alone, watching the alabaster skies. Away eastwards, the faint curve of the blood-red sun seemed to be rising out of the limitless sea of sand. The light around him was pearly, almost opalescent, fading eastwards into pink. The shadows had passed away. Though the sands were still hot beneath his feet, the silent air was deliciously cool. He turned lazily around, meaning to summ
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2.
2.
“You can call this fairyland, if you want,” Laura remarked, gazing around her; “I call it a nasty, damp, oozy spot.” “It seemed very beautiful when we first came,” Lenora sighed, “but that was after the heat and glare of the desert. There does seem something a little unhealthy about it.” “I’m just about fed up with Mongars,” Quest declared. “We do nothing but lie about, and they won’t even let us fire a gun off.” “Personally,” the Professor confessed, holding up a glass bottle in front of him fr
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1.
1.
Side by side they leaned over the rail of the steamer and gazed shorewards at the slowly unfolding scene before them. For some time they had all preserved an almost ecstatic silence. “Oh, but it’s good to see home again!” Laura sighed at last. “I’m with you,” Quest agreed emphatically. “It’s the wrong side of the continent, perhaps, but I’m aching to set my foot on American soil again.” “This the wrong side of the continent! I should say not!” Laura exclaimed, pointing to where in the distance t
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2.
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Quest took the dispatch which the hotel clerk handed to him one afternoon a fortnight later, and read it through without change of expression. Lenora, however, who was by his side, knew at once that it contained something startling. “What is it?” she asked. He passed his arm through hers and led her down the hall to where the Professor and Laura were just waiting for the lift. He beckoned them to follow him to a corner of the lounge. “There’s one thing I quite forgot, a fortnight ago,” he said,
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3.
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A man sat on the steps of the range cook wagon, crouching as far back as possible to take advantage of its slight shelter from the burning sun. He held before him a newspaper, a certain paragraph of which he was eagerly devouring. In the distance the mail boy was already disappearing in a cloud of dust. “FAMOUS CRIMINOLOGIST IN ALLGUEZ “Sanford Quest and his assistants, accompanied by Professor Lord Ashleigh, arrived in Allguez a few days ago to look for John Craig, formerly servant to the scien
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1.
1.
From the shadows of the trees on the further side of the river, Craig with strained eyes watched Quest’s struggle. He saw him reach Lenora, watched him struggle to the bank with her, waited until he had lifted her on to his horse. Then he turned slowly around and faced the one country in the world where freedom was still possible for him. He looked into a wall of darkness, penetrated only at one spot by a little blaze of light. Slowly, with his arm through the bridle of his horse, he limped towa
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2.
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The girl drew a low stool over to Craig’s side. He was sitting in a rough chair tilted back against the adobe wall of the saloon. “As tired as ever?” she asked, laying her hand upon his for a moment. He turned his head and looked at her. “Always tired,” he answered listlessly. She made a little grimace. “But you are so strange,” she protested. “Over the hills there are the steam cars. They would take you to some of our beautiful cities where all is light and gaiety. You are safe here, whatever y
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3.
3.
Quest awoke the next morning, stretched out his hand and glanced at the watch by the side of his bed. It was barely six o’clock. He turned over and dozed again, looked again at half-past six, and finally, at a few minutes to seven, rose and made a hasty toilet. Then, in the act of placing his watch in his waistcoat pocket, he gave a sudden start. By its side, half covered by the handkerchief which he had thrown upon the little table, stood a small black box! For a moment he was motionless. Then
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1.
1.
There was a peculiar, almost a foreboding silence about the camp that morning when Laura returned from her early ride. The only living person to be seen was the Chinaman, sitting on a stool in front of the wagon, with a dish of potatoes between his knees. “Say, where’s every one?” Laura sung out, after she had looked into Lenora’s tent and found it empty. The Chinaman continued to peel potatoes. He took no notice of the question. Laura touched her horse with the whip and cantered over to his sid
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2.
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The Professor laid down his book and gazed with an amiable smile towards Quest and Lenora. “I fear,” he remarked dolefully, “that my little treatise on the fauna of the Northern Orinoco scarcely appeals to you, Mr. Quest.” Quest, whose arm was in a sling but who was otherwise none the worse for his recent adventure, pointed out of the tent. “Don’t you believe it, Professor,” he begged. “I’ve been listening to every word. But say, Lenora, just look at Laura and French!” They all three peered anxi
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3.
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The woman who had just laid the cloth for a homely evening meal, smiled across at the girl who stood at the window. “It’s all ready now directly your uncle comes home,” she announced. “Say, you never seem to tire of looking out of that window.” The girl turned around with a smile. She was very young and dressed in deep mourning. “I’ve never seen anything like it before, Mrs. Malony,” she said. “It was quite quiet where we lived in London, and here, with the street cars and the elevated railways
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4.
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The Professor, who was comfortably seated in Quest’s favourite easy-chair, glanced at his watch and shook his head. “I am afraid, my friend,” he said, “that Craig’s nerve has failed him. A voluntary surrender was perhaps too much to hope for.” Quest smoked for a moment in silence. “Can’t understand those fellows letting him give them the slip,” he muttered. “He ought to have been under close surveillance from the moment he set foot in New York. What’s that?” he added, turning to the door. His se
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JUSTICE CHEATED
JUSTICE CHEATED
Return to Table of Contents The first shock was over. Craig’s body had been removed, and the girls had taken Mary, half stunned with grief, to their room. French and Quest were left alone. “This is some disappointment,” the former remarked gloomily. “It is a disappointment,” Quest said slowly, “which may clear the way to bigger things.” “What’s in your mind now?” French enquired. Quest shook his head. “A turmoil. First of all, where is the Professor?” “Must have scooted right away home,” French
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JOHN FOX, JR’S.
JOHN FOX, JR’S.
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap’s list. THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. The “lonesome pine” from which the story takes its name was a tall tree that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the foot-prints of a girl . And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of thes
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STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER
STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap’s list. THE HARVESTER Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs “The Harvester,” David Langston, is a man of the woods and fields, who draws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother Nature herself. If the book had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man, with his sure grip on life, his superb optimism, and his almost miraculous knowledge of nature secrets, it would be notable. But when the Girl comes to his “Medicine Woods,” and the H
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MYRTLE REED’S NOVELS
MYRTLE REED’S NOVELS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap’s list. LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. A charming story of a quaint corner of New England where bygone romance finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of love to the young people on the staff of a newspaper—and it is one of the prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fashioned love stories, * * * a rare book, exquisite in spirit and conception, full of delicate fancy, of tenderness, of delightful humor and spontaneity. A
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THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY
THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap’s list. WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. Illustrated by Wm. Charles Cooke. This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for two years in New York and Chicago. The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman’s revenge directed against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent. WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlto
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Original, sincere and courageous—often amusing—the kind that are making theatrical history.
Original, sincere and courageous—often amusing—the kind that are making theatrical history.
MADAME X. By Alexandre Bisson and J. W. McConaughy. Illustrated with scenes from the play. A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her husband would not forgive an error of her youth. Her love for her son is the great final influence in her career. A tremendous dramatic success. THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable stranger meet and love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged this season with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. THE
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A FEW OF GROSSET & DUNLAP’S
A FEW OF GROSSET & DUNLAP’S
NEW, CLEVER, ENTERTAINING. GRET: The Story of a Pagan. By Beatrice Mantle. Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. The wild free life of an Oregon lumber camp furnishes the setting for this strong original story. Gret is the daughter of the camp and is utterly content with the wild life—until love comes. A fine book, unmarred by convention. OLD CHESTER TALES. By Margaret Deland. Illustrated by Howard Pyle. A vivid yet delicate portrayal of characters in an old New England town. Dr. Lavendar’s fine, kindly
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A FEW OF GROSSET & DUNLAP’S
A FEW OF GROSSET & DUNLAP’S
THE MUSIC MASTER. By Charles Klein. Illustrated by John Rae. This marvelously vivid narrative turns upon the search of a German musician in New York for his little daughter. Mr. Klein has well portrayed his pathetic struggle with poverty, his varied experiences in endeavoring to meet the demands of a public not trained to an appreciation of the classic, and his final great hour when, in the rapidly shifting events of a big city, his little daughter, now a beautiful young woman, is brought to his
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B. M. Bower’s Novels
B. M. Bower’s Novels
Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated. CHIP, OF THE FLYING U A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Delia Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip’s jealousy of Dr. Cecil Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher. THE HAPPY FAMILY A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find
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LOUIS TRACY’S
LOUIS TRACY’S
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap’s list. CYNTHIA’S CHAUFFEUR. Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy. A pretty American girl in London is touring in a car with a chauffeur whose identity puzzles her. An amusing mystery. THE STOWAWAY GIRL. Illustrated by Nesbitt Benson. A shipwreck, a lovely girl stowaway, a rascally captain, a fascinating officer, and thrilling adventures in South Seas. THE CAPTAIN OF THE KANSAS. Love and the salt sea, a helpless ship whirled into t
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STORIES OF WESTERN LIFE
STORIES OF WESTERN LIFE
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap’s list. RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE, By Zane Grey. Illustrated by Douglas Duer. In this picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago, we are permitted to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the invisible hand of the Mormon Church to break the will of those refusing to conform to its rule. FRIAR TUCK, By Robert Alexander Wason. Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood. Happy Hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how Friar Tuck lived
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CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS
CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap’s list. WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE, By Jean Webster. Illustrated by C. D. Williams. One of the best stories of life in a girl’s college that has ever been written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable and thoroughly human. JUST PATTY, By Jean Webster. Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty conventio
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IRVING BACHELLER
IRVING BACHELLER
Full of the real atmosphere of American home life. THE HAND-MADE GENTLEMAN. With a double-page frontispiece. The son of a wash-woman begins re-making himself socially and imparts his system to his numerous friends. A story of rural New York with an appreciation of American types only possible from the pen of a humor loving American. DARREL OF THE BLESSED ISLES. With illustrations by Arthur I. Keller. A tale of the North Country. In Darrel, the clock tinker, wit, philosopher and man of mystery, i
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