The valet nodded, walked from the room on tiptoes.

  Lester Leith sighed, slipped from the covers, flipped the end of his cigarette into a fireplace, and engaged in setting-up exercises. Then he filled his own bath and was whistling merrily by the time the valet returned.

  “He seemed most angry, sir.”

  “He would, Scuttle, he would. I’ve started the bath water, Scuttle. You may ring up Miss Rhoda Bromley, and ask her if she cares to have breakfast with me. Tell her I think we are about due to get some definite results in our case. She can come over here, if she doesn’t mind, Scuttle. Tell her we’ll eat in about forty-five minutes, and that I have some work upon which I would like to have her assistance.

  “And telephone the hardware store and ask them to deliver the stove to the Cadillac Branch operated by Mr. Booth Garner. They’ll find a car belonging to me there. They can put the stove right back of this car.”

  The valet nodded doubtfully.

  “Yes, sir. Mr. Garner didn’t sound overly cordial, sir.”

  “Quite right. My shaving things are ready? Very well, Scuttle, you may place the calls.”

  CHAPTER IX

  The Stove Gets Damaged

  Lester Leith worked with swift efficiency that morning, shaving himself after a cold tub in record time. He was dressed, ready for the street within less than twenty minutes.

  “I am taking a run down to the garage to give my doggie a little exercise, Scuttle. I’ll be back almost as soon as Miss Bromley gets here. Ask her to wait.”

  And Lester Leith opened the door into the outer corridor and pushed the elevator button.

  In the apartment, the police spy raised the curtain and lowered it several times, signal to the waiting shadows that their quarry was about to emerge.

  By the time Lester Leith gained the sidewalk, the two shadows were ready for action. Leith looked about him for a taxicab, saw none, and walked to the garage where he took out his high-powered red roadster, and gave the detectives something of a chase.

  But he went exactly where he had said he was going, to the branch agency operated by Booth Garner, parked his car, and was confronted by that irate gentleman. “Well, what did you show up for? Your party’s gone!”

  Lester Leith nodded. “I just dropped in to exercise the dog. Being cooped up in a car all night must cramp his legs.”

  “Well,” retorted the red-faced Mr. Garner, “nothing seems to cramp your style any!”

  “No,” smiled Lester Leith. “It doesn’t. By the way, there’s a stove to be delivered here for me. Will you see that it’s put back of my automobile when it comes in?”

  Garner’s voice fairly dripped sarcasm.

  “Yes, my lord. The stove has already arrived, and has been parked as your lordship directed. Were there any other orders you have? A stove! Perhaps you’d like to park an elephant in the garage. It’s a privilege that’s usually extended to salesmen.”

  Lester Leith yawned, shook his head. “No. No elephant, just stoves. And, by the way, Garner, do you want my services or don’t you? You made a nice little profit on a deal I closed yesterday afternoon.”

  Garner fidgeted.

  “Oh, go to it. You’ve got to sell a car to-day or you’re out, under your own proposition.”

  Lester Leith nodded casually, strolled toward his car.

  The bulldog wriggled his hindquarters in enthusiastic greeting. Lester Leith spoke soothingly to the dog, rubbed his hand over the back of the dog’s ears, got in the car and drove from the garage.

  Booth Gamer watched him go with mixed emotions depicted upon his countenance.

  Leith did not drive far. There were some vacant lots within a mile, and he went to them, produced a rubber ball, and for ten minutes threw the ball for the dog to retrieve. Then he returned the dog to the car and drove back to the garage and new car agency.

  He had been followed every inch of the way by the detectives. His every move had been noted and written down. Later those reports would come into the desk of the puzzled Sergeant Ackley.

  It was when Lester Leith was backing the car into its stall that the vehicle seemed to live up to its reputation as a hoodooed car. The car was in reverse, Leith was looking behind, slipping the clutch, when something happened.

  His foot slipped off the clutch pedal. The gasoline lever caught on his coat sleeve. The car leaped backward in reverse, propelled by the powerful motor racing at top speed.

  There was a crash which echoed through the garage, and then the car came to a sudden stop.

  Lester Leith jumped from it. Employees of the garage ran forward. An irate manager rushed to the spot. “I’m afraid,” said Lester Leith, “that I’ve broken my stove.”

  “Stove, hell!” roared Garner. “Look at that gasoline spurting out from the tank. Shut off the motor! Shut off the motor! Shut off the motor!”

  Someone ran to the motor and shut it off. White with rage, Garner faced Lester Leith.

  “You’re finished. Get out and stay out. Don’t ever come in this place again. Of all the supercilious, doubly damned dude fools, you take the cake!”

  Lester Leith regarded the stove, broken into half a dozen pieces, the fragments squirted with gasoline. He looked at the circle of curious faces who surveyed the scene, noticed the watchful eyes of the two detectives.

  “Very well,” he said, meekly. “But this is my car, you know.

  Can I get it repaired here? There doesn’t seem to be much wrong with it except the broken gasoline tank. That tank can be soldered, can’t it?”

  Booth Garner laughed. “Solder that tank! You’re good! Yes, my dear Mr. Leith, you are a customer here. You can get service, provided you pay for it. I will put you on a new gasoline tank for exactly fifty dollars, cash.”

  Lester Leith opened his wallet. “Very reasonable,” he said, and handed Garner a fifty-dollar bill.

  “Oh, Lord!” groaned the suffering manager, and turned to one of his shop foremen.

  “Bill, get a new gasoline tank on this bus and get it out of here. Put all the men on it you need to, but get it out. Don’t ever let it come back. The car’s a hoodoo and the man’s a hoodoo and I’m going crazy if I ain’t careful!”

  The foreman immediately motioned two of the men. “Get your wrenches, boys,” he said.

  Lester Leith took the dog, tied him to the steering wheel, and supervised the operation of changing gasoline tanks. When the new tank had been fitted into place Lester Leith picked up the old tank.

  “I get credit for this?” he asked.

  Booth Gamer was properly sarcastic. “Oh, yes,” he said, “twenty-one cents.”

  Lester Leith shook his head. “It’s worth more than that, some junk company would give me three or four dollars for it.”

  “Take it then!” stormed Garner. “Take it! Put it in the back of your damned hoodooed car and get the hell out of here!”

  And Lester Leith did just that, while the plain-clothes men shadowed him.

  But Leith did not go directly to the junk men. Instead he drove to his apartment, leaving his red roadster parked in front of the agency. He put the car in his garage, and he left the dog in the car. Then he closed the garage doors and went to join Miss Bromley in his apartment.

  “Well,” she greeted him, “you’re a nice one. Had an appointment with me for breakfast almost an hour ago! Got me out of my beauty sleep to meet you, and then don’t show up. You’re a hot sketch!”

  “Had an accident,” he explained. “I’m awfully sorry. It couldn’t be helped, you know. I was all ready to come up here when I had some bad luck with my car. I backed into a stove I’d just purchased and smashed the stove and stove in the gasoline tank.”

  Her gray eyes softened with quick sympathy. “I’m sorry. I knew it was something out of the ordinary.”

  Leith nodded mournfully.

  “And now my plans are all upset, and I got fired from the only job I ever had.”

  The valet interrupted. “I’ve made a second batch of fresh coffee and toast, sir.”

  “Serve it,” said Lester Leith. “I’m hungry as a bear, Scuttle, and Miss Bromley must be hungry, too.”

  They had their breakfast, and then Lester Leith called for the dice, the vise and the drill, also the emery wheel. “Now, Miss Bromley,” he explained, “I shall want your help. I’ll want you to help me grind the corners off these dice. Grind them into regular shapes, and I’ll turn the emery wheel. Then we’ll drill holes through the center.”

  The actress looked at him with calm, speculative eyes. The police spy interposed a comment.

  “But, sir, you can’t use them if they’ve got the corners all ground off that way.”

  “On the contrary, Scuttle, I can’t use them unless they are ground, and in exactly that manner.”

  And Lester Leith started the operation of grinding off the corners of the dice, drilling holes through the center and, last of all, threading them in a string upon the silken cord. “Now, Scuttle,“ he said when he had finished. “There’s not the slightest question but what I own this string of dice, is there?”

  “No, sir. I bought them myself.”

  “Thank you, Scuttle. Kindly remember that. And now, Miss Bromley. I’ll take you back to your apartment. You might remember, if you will, the words of my valet, also take a good look at this string of dice so you can identify them later if the occasion requires.”

  The puzzled gray eyes surveyed him with cool appraisal. “I do hope you know what you’re doing,” she said.

  Leith bowed. “Perfectly. I am taking you home in a car I purchased only last night. Just a little flier in used automobiles.

  “By the way, Scuttle, we were going to warm up the cold clews in that Riggers case over the cooking stove, and now our cooking stove is smashed. Do you suppose, Scuttle, it would be possible to warm up a cold clew on a broken stove?”

  The valet drew himself up with dignity.

  “One doesn’t warm up a cold clew over a cooking stove, sir.”

  “No,” commented Lester Leith, mournfully, “I suppose not. Come, Miss Bromley. I’ll try and think up some other method of warming over clews.”

  And he escorted the actress from the apartment to the garage, introduced Bobo, the bull pup to her, and drove her to her apartment.

  CHAPTER X

  Lester Tries to Sell a Tank

  That much was determined without question when Sergeant Ackley had occasion, somewhat later in the day, to examine the reports of the shadowers, in a puzzled perplexity of mental bewilderment.

  From Miss Bromley’s apartment, Lester Leith went upon many aimless expeditions. He seemed, as best could be determined by those who shadowed him, to be trying to sell the stove-in gasoline tank to various junk men and secondhand dealers.

  Invariably, Lester Leith took out the broken tank, exhibited it, extolled its virtues, gave it to the junk dealer to handle, seemed always about to consummate a deal until the last minute, when there would be a dispute, and the tank would again change hands.

  After the fifth occasion one of the detectives left the shadowing to the other, and dropped behind to interrogate the junk dealer who had been approached.

  “What’s the idea of the fellow with the tank?” asked the detective, nipping back his coat.

  “I knew it! I knew it!” exclaimed the excited junk man.

  “Knew what?”

  “That he’d escaped from a nut house. Go after him. You can catch him. He’s just down the street. Lock him up. He’s nutty, cuckoo, goofy!”

  “But,” insisted the detective, “what did he say?”

  “Say? He seemed all right at first. He showed me the gasoline tank and asked if I thought it could be repaired. When I seen the hole in it and told him he’d better throw it in the junk heap for metal, he seemed to agree with me. And then, right at the last, he wanted three dollars and a half for it. It ain’t worth three and a half cents. I don’t know as I’d even want to give it yard room.”

  The detective nodded, opened his notebook and laboriously noted the conversation. Then he reported to headquarters.

  In the meantime, Lester Leith continued his round of the various junk men, nor did he cease his efforts until he had made the complete rounds.

  Then he started in upon the metal works and obtained various estimates for the cost of rebuilding the tank. Men told him that it would cost more than a new tank, that there would have to be welding, patching, painting.

  Lester Leith nodded patiently, got figures, had the tank examined and reexamined.

  These facts were also duly reported to Sergeant Ackley. About the time these reports were coming in to headquarters, Scuttle was called to the telephone.

  A very angry Mr. Garner, Cadillac dealer, was on the wire. He explained that Lester Leith had an appointment to exhibit a certain used Cadillac to a young lady who wanted to buy it at a fancy price. The young lady seemed inclined to feel the agency would be responsible if she lost the deal. It happened that Lester Leith, debonair, smiling, entered the apartment while Scuttle was floundering about for excuses.

  The valet-spy explained the situation briefly, and Leith waved his hand.

  “Tell her to come here,” he said. “Explain to Mr. Garner that I have lost interest in automobile salesmanship.”

  Scuttle transmitted the message, then stepped back from the telephone, rubbing his left ear. “He hung up on me, sir.”

  “He would,” said Lester Leith. “Trade, Scuttle, is very coarsening. I find that many business men are not gentlemen.”

  The valet looked at him dubiously.

  Leith sank into his reclining chair, crossed silken ankles, lit a cigarette and smiled. “Do you know, Scuttle, if Sergeant Ackley tries to send me another case I think I shall turn it down.”

  The valet leaned forward, ears perked. “Yes, sir?”

  “Yes, Scuttle. In detecting crime it is necessary for a man to play a part now and again, and I have been playing a part so much in this case that it seems a relief to be myself once more.”

  “Yes, sir—the stove, sir? Warming up the clews, sir? That was all a little joke of yours, sir?”

  The wheedling voice of the spy was calculated to wring a confession from a graven image. But Lester Leith merely smiled.

  “Surely, Scuttle, you didn’t think I wanted the stove to warm up a clew?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Yet,” resumed Lester Leith, a twinkle in his eye, “that is exactly what I did want the stove for.”

  The valet flushed. “But it was broken, sir.”

  “Yes, Scuttle, and the breaking was exactly what I wanted. A three-hundred-pound stove, Scuttle, parked against a concrete wall, makes a very nice obstacle to back car into. It is almost certain to smash in an automobile’s gasoline tank.”

  The valet thought that over with his little, protruding eyes glittering with suppressed excitement. “Then you had planned on—”

  Lester Leith waved a nonchalant hand. “Hold it until a little later, Scuttle. I have some things to go over in my mind before the customer for the second-hand car arrives.”

  And Lester Leith closed his eyes and concentrated, his lips twitching, now and again, in a smile.

  Had his eyes been open he would have seen the police spy’s mouth sag in puzzled wonder, suddenly snap shut with a click, and the spy himself start for the telephone, pause, study Lester Leith, and then squirm about in an ecstasy of impatience.

  But Lester Leith had his eyes closed, and could not have been expected to observe the panorama of expressions upon the face of his valet—unless he was actually holding his lids so that a narrow slit of vision permitted him to spy upon the spy.

  Minutes passed. The valet fidgeted. “I should go out…” he began.

  “Yes, Scuttle.”

  “Yes, sir. There is a certain—er—matter, a bill for repairs, sir. I should take it up with the landlord “

  “Use the telephone, Scuttle.”

  “Yes, sir, but it happens I can do so much more good with this personally …”

  But at that moment the buzzer sounded its summons, and Scuttle went to the door to admit the anxious customer who wished to purchase the secondhand car.

  “Miss Edna Morgan.” he announced and stood to one side.

  She was in the living room even before Lester Leith could formulate the words which bid the valet show her in.

  One thing could be said about Miss Edna Morgan. She would arrest attention anywhere. Her clothes served to conceal sufficient to comply with current legislation, although twenty years ago she would have been promptly arrested. A hundred years ago she would have been hanged.

  Her skirt struck her legs at about the top of the stockings. It had been cut in such a manner that it emphasized that which it concealed. Her cheeks were a vivid shade of orange. Her hair glinted in the light with synthetic golden shades. The lips were full, rich and crimson.

  Lester Leith arose to greet her.

  “Hello,” she said.

  Lester Leith bowed and smiled. “It is a pleasure, Miss Morgan.”

  She sat down, elevated one silken knee over the other. “What’s the idea of parking the bulldog in the sedan?”

  Lester Leith elevated his brows. “How did you know he was there?” he asked.

  For the first time the girl showed some embarrassment. Her big eyes shifted momentarily. “Why, I took a look in the garage they said was yours to see if the car was okay, and the pup nearly ate me up.”

  “The dog,” explained Lester Leith, “is a watch dog, and I keep him in the car to keep from having the car stolen. It has rather a long history of thefts back of it, you know.”

  “Yeah?” said the girl, and yawned. “How much?”

  “You are familiar with the price quoted, I believe.”

  The girl’s eyes blazed. “Too damn much!” she said.

  Lester Leith bowed. “Very well, then, we will withdraw the car from the market. Mr. Booth Garner has some excellent new cars. If you will use my name, he will undoubtedly show you the very best bargains the place has to offer.”