“I figured that the woman, having betrayed one man to his ruin, would be just the type of rat who would run out on that man if she thought she could get away with it. I counted on her figuring that the man was held helpless in the apartment, and coming down here to feather her own nest with the swag and walk out.

  “You take the credit for the arrest. I don’t want to figure in it.”

  The officer stared at Zoom, at the white-haired woman who stood open mouthed, wide eyed.

  “Who’s she?” he asked.

  “The mother of an innocent young man,” said Zoom, “who was about to be railroaded to jail by the pair of crooks.”

  The woman clutched at his arm.

  “A grateful mother,” she said, and started to sob her happiness. The officer frowned.

  “Well,” he said, “we gotta telephone to headquarters and get this thing straightened out.” Sidney Zoom yawned.

  “That’s okay. Only you take the credit of cleaning up the case. Say that I just happened along. It’ll mean a feather in your cap. It won’t mean anything to me.”

  SIDNEY ZOOM was at the wheel of his yacht. The bar was choppy. A fresh breeze was ripping off the tops of the chops and sending spray drops as large as buckshot rattling against the windows of the cabin. The yeasty water, churned into an agitated mass of tumbled foam, hissed past the sides of the rocking craft. The yacht rose lightly on tumbled wave crests, only to be smashed by disordered cross swells.

  It was weather such as Sidney Zoom liked, a stiff breeze, a sea that pounded his yacht, plenty of freedom and elbow room.

  Vera Thurmond, his secretary, was straightening out the report of the radio calls that had gone over the police broadcasting system the night before.

  “This robbery of Huntley & Cobb’s place was cleaned up,” she said. “The police got a confession.”

  Sidney Zoom’s hawk-like eyes remained fixed upon the roaring waters.

  “Yes?” he asked, shifting the wheel a bit so that he would quarter up a big roller. “Yes. One of the men from the wholesale department did it. He framed things so

  it would seem another employee was guilty. A patrolman caught the woman accomplice taking the loot from a brick wall. There was something like twenty thousand dollars’ worth. He’s going to get a promotion out of it. They found the man and he confessed and blamed the woman. She was the one who lured Dupree, the man they first suspected.”

  Sidney Zoom yawned.

  “Well,” he said, “if it’s a closed case, tear up the records. It’s dead, as far as I’m concerned, when the case is solved.”

  She regarded him curiously.

  “You were out getting the radio reports last night. I wonder that you didn’t get in on that. Weren’t you interested?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Zoom, “I looked the ground over.”

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out a bracelet, studded with small diamonds and rubies.

  “By the way,” he said, “you might like that.” He tossed it over to her.

  She rose to her feet, braced herself against the roll of the yacht, let her breath come in a gasp as she saw the exquisite workmanship of the bracelet.

  “For me?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, a present from Huntley. He tried to give it to me, and I laughed at him, told him I didn’t wear bracelets. So he asked me if I didn’t have some secretary who might like it. I told him yes. Better drop Huntley a note of thanks.”

  The girl was staring at the bracelet, fitting it around her wrist.

  “Why,” she exclaimed, “it’s worth hundreds of dollars! Why in the world would Huntley have given you such a bracelet?”

  Sidney Zoom shrugged his shoulders.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I just happened to be in the place when the stolen jewelry was recovered. He was feeling generous, I guess.”

  She said, sharply: “You were there when the stolen jewelry was brought back?”

  “Yes.”

  She laughed.

  “No wonder another patrolman gets a promotion!” she said.

  “Well,” explained Sidney Zoom, sheepishly, “he had a family, and he ran as though his feet were about to give out pounding pavements.”

  “I see,” said the girl, and her eyes, watching the lines of Sidney Zoom’s grim back, were soft with a tenderness that was purely feminine, yet held no trace of being maternal.

  But Sidney Zoom’s unwinking hawk-eyes were fastened upon the confused waters over the bar. His hands caressed the spokes of the wheel tenderly, and the yacht throbbed her way out into the storm.

  LIFTED BAIT

  CHAPTER I

  Two Tickets to Midvale

  THE HAWK eyes of Sidney Zoom peered into the lighted window of the telegraph office.

  Sidney Zoom, tall, dynamic, sardonic, paced the midnight streets of the city, accompanied by his police dog, taking the part of the oppressed, and making war upon the oppressors. Experience had taught him the haunts of those bits of human flotsam who were spewed out to one side by the ruthless tide of the great city.

  There were those who said that Sidney Zoom fought for the underdog because of a vast human sympathy beneath the sardonic exterior. There were others who claimed that Sidney Zoom was merely a born fighter, and that he cultivated the unfortunate because he wished some cause for combat.

  Be that as it may, Sidney Zoom frequented the midnight streets. He knew the haunts of those unfortunates who were about to commit suicide. He knew the cheap restaurants where human derelicts came drifting at night, dispirited, discouraged and all but impoverished.

  And he knew that the foundation for many grim tragedies has been laid in the lighted interiors of the telegraph offices during those hours after the theatre crowds have ceased to surge along the pavements, and when human vitality is at its lowest ebb.

  The young woman who caught the eyes of Sidney Zoom was twisting a handkerchief about her fingers as she stood at the counter of the office.

  Sidney Zoom pushed his way through the swinging door. His well-trained police dog dropped to the sidewalk, flattened against the side of the building, ears cocked forward, delicately attuned to the steps of his master.

  Sidney Zoom approached the telegraph counter and stood beside the young woman.

  She did not so much as glance up. Her eyes were fixed upon the lone attendant who was shuffling through a sheaf of telegrams.

  The clerk turned and approached the counter, empty-handed.

  As the eyes of the girl saw the empty hands, she gave a quivering, sobbing gasp.

  “No, Miss Allison,” said the clerk, “There’s nothing for you.”

  “But,” she said, “I sent her a wire this evening, about nine o’clock. It certainly should have been delivered.”

  The clerk looked inquiringly at Sidney Zoom. “I’ll wait,” said Zoom.

  The clerk turned to face the white despair of the girl’s features.

  “Did you want me,” he asked, “to look up the telegram and see if it was delivered?”

  She nodded. “It was sent to Evelyn Bostwick, and my name is Ruby Allison. The address was 2932 Cutter Avenue, Chicago.”

  “Just a moment,” said the clerk.

  He opened a filing drawer, thumbed rapidly through a list of cards, took out one, and brought it to the young woman.

  “Apparently,” he said, “she was not at her apartment, but was expected later. The telegram is reported undelivered.”

  The girl gasped, clutched the edge of the counter, then turned wordlessly and walked toward the nearest chair. She sat down as though her knees had collapsed.

  Abruptly, she became conscious of the gaze of the two men, and flashed them a resentful look. She turned to the oak desk in front of which she was seated, pulled down a pad of telegraph blanks, picked up a pencil and started to scribble a message.

  The clerk looked inquiringly at Sidney Zoom.

  “Have you,” asked Sidney Zoom, “any message for Zoom? Sidney Zoom.”

  “Just a moment, Mr. Zoom,” said the clerk.

  He once more consulted the sheaf of telegrams, then shook his head. “Nothing, Mr. Zoom.”

  Sidney Zoom walked to one of the other desks, sat in front of it, and pulled toward him a pad of blanks, while he started to scribble a message which was but a meaningless jumble of words. From time to time he hesitated, as though seeking exactly the proper word, or crossed out some word which he had written. Upon those occasions, his eyes surreptitiously surveyed the young woman.

  She finished writing her telegram, read it, hesitated, bit her lip, looked at the clock, tore the telegram in half and dropped it into the wastebasket. She pushed back her chair, walked with firm, determined steps to the counter and caught the eyes of the clerk.

  “I’ll come back again in about an hour,” she said. “They certainly should be able to deliver that telegram, and there’ll be an answer for me.”

  The clerk nodded.

  “Very well,” he said. “We’re open all night. I’ll try and get another report for you, Miss Allison.”

  She nodded, turned and walked swiftly through the door, out into the night.

  Sidney Zoom waited a moment, then moved over to the desk where the girl had been sitting. Once more, he took a telegraph blank and scribbled aimless words upon it. Then he made a gesture of frowning annoyance, crumpled up the blank and dropped it into the wastebasket.

  A moment later he leaned forward, as though to retrieve the crumpled telegram. The clerk had ceased to pay any attention to Sidney Zoom.

  Zoom’s fingers picked up the torn fragments of the telegram which the girl had written. He placed these torn fragments together upon the desk and studied the message.

  The telegram was addressed to Mr. George Grace, 912 West 25th Street, and read: Require hundred dollars immediately save me from jail Wired Evelyn but have had no answer Can you spare money Send me care Western Union here.

  Sidney Zoom regarded the message for several minutes, then dropped the torn pieces into his pocket, arose and strode from the lighted room, into the street.

  The police dog rose from the shadows near the door. Gravely, sedately, he padded along by the side of his master.

  Sidney Zoom went to the place where he had parked his roadster. A wave of his wrist, and the dog, catching the signal, leapt up from the pavement in a long arch of graceful motion, and dropped into the rumble seat.

  Sidney Zoom started the motor and drove rapidly and purposefully, going to a branch telegraph station that he knew was open.

  He parked the car, entered the small room, and said to the operator in charge: “Here is a hundred dollars. I want it wired to Ruby Allison, care of the telegraph company here. You may waive identification.”

  The clerk frowned heavily at Sidney Zoom.

  “You want to send it to some person care of the company in this city?” he asked. “Yes,” said Sidney Zoom. “So that it will go to your main office for delivery.” The clerk looked dubious for a moment, then handed Sidney Zoom a blank. “Very well,” he said, “fill it in.”

  Sidney Zoom took one hundred dollars from his pocket, placed the bills on the counter, asked for the amount of the charges, and paid those.

  The clerk looked down at the signature Sidney Zoom had affixed to the blank. “You’ve simply signed ‘A. Friend.’ ”

  “Certainly,” said Sidney Zoom.

  “But we can’t accept money signed like that. You can sign a telegram any way you want to, but …”

  Sidney Zoom smiled.

  “It happens,” he said, “that that is my name—Anson W. Friend, and I always sign it ‘A. Friend.’ ”

  “Very well,” said the clerk, and took the money.

  Sidney Zoom turned on his heel, strode once more out into the night. Now he was chuckling to himself, scenting adventure.

  He drove back to the main office of the telegraph company, parked his car in an advantageous position, settled back against the cushions, and smoked a cigarette.

  He had been there approximately twenty minutes, when he heard the click of heels on the pavement, and the young woman walked past his parked automobile and into the office, her steps quick, short and nervous, her face drawn and set.

  Sidney Zoom watched her through the glass as she went to the counter, saw the clerk’s reassuring smile, saw him come to her with papers to be signed, and then saw the one hundred dollars which the clerk counted out and passed over to her.

  The clerk said something, and the young woman frowned. There were several moments of animated discussion, and Sidney Zoom surmised that she was learning, for the first time, the mysterious name which had been used by the donor of the money.

  However, the young woman finally shrugged her shoulders—a shrug which indicated very plainly that she had other matters to concern her—flashed the clerk a smile and a word of thanks, turned and walked rapidly from the telegraph office.

  Sidney Zoom had rather expected she would go to some apartment, but she did not. Instead, she walked to a corner where an all-night bus line ran to the Union Station. She waited some ten minutes, caught a bus to the station, presented a check at the parcel checking counter, and received a suitcase and a hat box.

  She lugged these to a ticket window and engaged in conversation with the clerk, pausing to look at the clock frowningly.

  Sidney Zoom had parked his roadster after he had followed her to the depot. He had entered the foyer of the big depot, and gradually moved up to where he could hear the conversation between the young woman and the agent.

  “… not until two o’clock?” she asked. “That’s right.”

  “And this train for the South leaves in fifteen minutes?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Very well,” she said, “give me a ticket on that.”

  “Where to?” he asked.

  She hesitated a moment, then pushed fifteen dollars through the barred grille. “As far as that will take me,” she said.

  He looked at her curiously, then consulted a schedule of rates.

  “I can sell you a ticket to Midvale for fifteen dollars and twenty-five cents,” he said.

  Wordlessly, she opened her purse, and pushed twenty-five cents across the marble slab. The clerk stamped a ticket and handed it to her.

  “Pullman?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “How soon can I get on the train?”

  “Right away,” he told her. “It leaves in exactly thirteen minutes.”

  She picked up the suitcase and hat box and started for the train gates. Sidney Zoom moved up to the window.

  “Midvale—single,” he said.

  CHAPTER II

  The Flight from Crime

  THE TRAIN gradually gathered momentum as it rumbled through the dark outskirts of the city. The young woman, her face still drawn and tense, her eyes dark with terror that amounted to panic, flashed a surreptitious glance at the tall, mysterious man who sat at ease in the seat across from her. His fingers toyed with a ticket and held it in such a position that the young woman could see the destination printed upon the ticket was that of Midvale.

  Abruptly, she held her eyes upon his. “You live in Midvale?” she asked.

  Sidney Zoom shook his head.

  “Can you tell me what sort of a place it is?” she asked.

  Sidney Zoom leaned toward her. His hawk-like eyes stared at her steadily; circles of cold ice, in the center of which were twin pinpoints of inky mystery.

  “It is a place,” said Sidney Zoom in low, solemn tones, “where one who is hiding from the police could readily be found.”

  For a second or two the full import of his words did not dawn upon her consciousness. She sat staring at him with an expression of stupefied terror upon her countenance. Then she gave a quivering gasp.

  “Perhaps,” said Sidney Zoom in a kindly tone, “you would care to tell me about it.”

  “Tell you about what?” she asked.

  “About the reason you’re going to Midvale,” said Sidney Zoom.

  “I’m going there,” she said, defiantly, “to visit a sick aunt. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t care to have any further conversation with you.”

  “Evidently,” said Sidney Zoom, “you were overtaken by some emergency which demanded immediate flight. You packed your suitcase, took it down to the depot and checked it. Then you tried to get sufficient money to get out of town. You sent telegrams until you finally secured one hundred dollars. You came down to the station and took the first train leaving town. Now, perhaps, you would care to tell me why. I might help you.”

  Her stare was that of icy scorn.

  “I presume,” she said, “that this is just another trick of a fresh masher. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in the first place, but you looked like a gentleman. However, just to show you how wrong you are, it happens that my Aunt Agnes is quite ill, and she wired for me to come and nurse her. She also wired me the money for transportation, if you want to know. Come to think of it, it seems to me that I did see you watching me in the telegraph office. I don’t know just what your game is, but I shall certainly call the conductor and make a complaint if you speak to me again.”

  Sidney Zoom sighed.

  “Somehow,” he moaned, “I always do make the wrong approach.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly done it this time,” she said icily.

  Without another word, he reached into his pocket, took out the torn pieces of the telegram he had picked up from the wastebasket, and fitted them together in front of her astonished eyes. Then, from his wallet he took the receipt which the telegraph company had given him for the money he had telegraphed to her.

  “I am the one who sent you the money.”

  “You?” she gasped.

  He nodded.

  She reached swiftly forward, scooped up the torn pieces of the telegram, crumpled them into a ball.