“And she was a fake. She didn’t tell you anything!” gloated the valet-spy.

  Lester Leith’s expression continued to be filled with utter melancholy, but he shook his head.

  “On the contrary, Scuttle, she told me everything.”

  The valet jumped as though he had been pricked with a pin. “Everything, sir?”

  “Everything, Scuttle.”

  The valet squirmed in curiosity. “I don’t see how she could have, sir,” he said tentatively.

  Lester Leith gave his head a dubious shake. “Neither do I, Scuttle, but she did.”

  The valet took advantage of what seemed most unusual preoccupation. He lowered his voice.

  “Told you what?” he asked, soothingly, invitingly.

  “Everything.”

  There was silence in the room for the space of several minutes. Then the valet tried again.

  “You mean?” He waited.

  Lester Leith began to speak in a spiritless tone, the tone of a man who has been condemned and knows there can be no appeal from the sentence.

  “I am to become very ill, Scuttle. The illness will start as a pain in my side. A doctor will make the wrong diagnosis and insist upon an operation. If I have that operation it will prove fatal.”

  The spy regarded the arch-crook with incredulous eyes.

  “Why, sir?”

  “Because,” said Leith in lugubrious tones, “Mars is in the ascendancy and the influence of Uranus is entirely blotted out, or perhaps it is vice versa, Scuttle. I couldn’t remember the technical side of it.”

  “Surely, sir, you don’t believe all that bosh?”

  Lester Leith fastened mournful eyes upon the spy. “What makes you think it is bosh, Scuttle?”

  The valet-spy resorted to something he had said earlier in the evening. “It’s a lot of hooey,” he said.

  Lester Leith shrugged his shoulders.

  “Many important events have been predicted by astrologers the world over,” he said. “It is a science that has been developed everywhere by every civilization. You can’t pass that off as a lot of hooey, Scuttle.”

  “When are you to have this sickness, sir?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon I am to notice the first symptoms, Scuttle.”

  The valet thought for a few moments in silence. “Suppose the doctor doesn’t operate, sir. Then what will happen?”

  “Then, Scuttle, the illness will prove fatal in any event— unless…” Lester Leith let his voice trail off into impressive silence.

  “Unless what, sir?”

  “Unless I can get a nurse who has astrological influences which are the exact complement of mine and make her fees contingent upon my recovery. That will give her an interest in my recovery. If her horoscope shows that she will be financially successful upon that day and hour, and I can make her financial success depend upon my recovery, then, Scuttle, I will recover!” And a new note of buoyant hope crept into Lester Leith’s voice.

  The valet blinked as he digested this information.

  “But, sir,” he said, at length, interested despite his initial unbelief, “how can you tell about this nurse?”

  “Ah, yes, Scuttle. There’s the point. We must get a nurse who was born on the seventeenth day of July, 1907. That will bring her within the sign of Cancer—I believe it’s Cancer, Scuttle—and there will be certain planets in the ascendancy that will neutralize my unfortunate planetary influences.”

  The valet grunted. “What a bunch of hooey!” he said.

  Lester Leith got to his feet with a bound.

  “It’s not too late to make the late morning newspapers, Scuttle. “Get me a big display ad in the want-ad section. ‘Wanted, a trained nurse who was born on the seventeenth of July, 1907. One is preferred who was born near five o’clock in the afternoon of that day. Should be good looking.’ Run that ad in the papers, Scuttle. Get it in a big display box. Tell the nurse to apply by personal call and give her this address. Insert also, ‘handsome wages will be paid and a big bonus.’”

  Lester Leith’s face was now animated. His eyes were sparkling.

  “But, sir,” protested the valet.

  Lester Leith jumped to his feet, waving his arms in impatience. “Get that ad in, Scuttle. Get it in, get it in!”

  The startled valet moved toward the telephone. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  The telephone was in a soundproof closet, and the valet ponderously explained the details of the advertisement to the want-ad departments. It took him some time. When he returned, Lester Leith had vanished, gone without any word, without any sound. The spy searched the apartment, confirmed his suspicion that Leith had sneaked out into the night.

  A smile twisted the features of the spy.

  Sergeant Ackley had seen to it that Lester Leith’s ruse would do him no good. Wherever Leith went, whatever he did, he would be trailed by the skilled shadows.

  Beaver helped himself to another of Leith’s expensive perfec-tos, and dropped into the reclining chair, determined to wait up if it was all night.

  Hours passed. The spy was startled from a dozing sleep by the ringing of the telephone.

  Sergeant Ackley’s tired tones came over the wire. “You’re a hell of an undercover agent,” he said.

  The spy grunted a confused question. “Why—what—how?”

  “Why didn’t you signal the men when Leith slipped out?”

  “I couldn’t. He had me at the telephone, and he sneaked out while I was telephoning.”

  Sergeant Ackley grunted. “Did, eh? Lucky thing I had my men watching for that very thing. He tried to make a sneak.”

  “What,” asked the spy, in tone quivering with eagerness, “did he do?”

  “Went out to the scene of the holdup. This time he tried a new stunt. He had a bunch of bags checked at different checking stations. He’d start from the scene of the holdup, rush to the checking station, pick up a bag, go to the depot and check it, mail the check, and then rush to the house on Milpas Street. He did it four times.

  “Once he made it within thirty seconds of the time limit. That was when the streets were deserted. Blinky Bings never made it. He had traffic to fight, lots of traffic.”

  The police spy grunted his surprise. “You’ve looked into the bags?”

  “Not after the second time. There’s no use. They’re all empty. He ain’t interested in the bags. He’s interested in the time element. He’s on his way back to the apartment. Thought I’d tip you off.”

  “Yes, sergeant. Thanks. He’s consulted an astrologer and learns he’s going to be ill. He wants a nurse who was born on the 17th of July, 1907.”

  Sergeant Ackley’s tone lost some of its fatigue.

  “He’s going to be sick all right!” he promised. “I’m covering him in this job so there won’t be any chance of a slipup. Better get to bed, Beaver.”

  “Okay, sergeant, but I’m not so sure about the bags. What was it that was taken, fifty grand in cold cash?”

  Sergeant Ackley grunted.

  “Don’t be too sure about its being cold cash. It may have been hot cash. This chap, Milne, is keeping awfully quiet, just for a hole in his shoulder. I’m going to talk with him. You go to bed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  And Beaver slipped into bed a full ten minutes before Lester Leith clicked back the latch on his door. But the spy heard the archcriminal come into the room, heard him chuckle as he prepared for bed, and the spy corrugated his brows in thought. Why that chuckle?

  It was a triumphant chuckle, the chuckle of one who has mastered the solution of an intricate puzzle. It was the sort of chuckle which Beaver had heard before, and it always presaged a perfect coup for Lester Leith.

  CHAPTER VIII

  Nine Thousand for Diamonds

  The want-ads brought results. Three young women, each professing to have been born on the 17th of July, 1907, were waiting for Lester Leith when that individual opened his eyes in response to an apologetic cough from the police spy. “I’m sorry, sir. There are three applicants for the position of nurse, sir. I’ve had them waiting as long as I dared, sir.”

  Lester Leith rubbed his eyes. “What’s the time, Scuttle?”

  “Two-thirty in the afternoon, sir.”

  Lester Leith yawned again. “My tub, Scuttle?”

  “Ready, sir.”

  “And the nurses?”

  “What of them, sir?”

  “Which one is the best looking, Scuttle?”

  The valet consulted a list of names. “A Miss Quinn, sir.”

  “Which one was bom nearest to five o’clock in the afternoon, Scuttle?”

  The valet-spy consulted the paper once more. “Miss Quinn, sir.”

  Lester Leith reached for a cigarette. “Which of the young women looks like the best sport, Scuttle? That is, which one has a twinkle in her eye, an appreciation of life, a verve, a vivacity for living?”

  The valet had no need to consult his list. “Miss Quinn, sir. She’s a knockout!”

  Lester Leith gathered his bathrobe about him. “Tell Miss Quinn she’s hired, Scuttle. Tell her she will receive her customary wages and a bonus of five hundred dollars if I recover from the illness I am about to have.”

  The valet’s eyes widened. “Good heavens, sir! You don’t mean to say you are going to hire a nurse before you even get sick!”

  Lester Leith’s eyes were cold.

  “You will please convey my message to Miss Quinn, Scuttle. Let the others go. Tell Miss Quinn to wait. Give the others each one day’s wages to compensate them for their time. I’ll be out as soon as I tub and shave.”

  And Lester Leith vanished in the direction of the bathroom, from which, presently, there emerged the sounds of splashing water, the sound of a cheerful whistle.

  The valet-spy moved ponderously and with dignity to the reception room, where three very keen-eyed young women regarded him anxiously.

  Twenty minutes later Lester Leith entered the room. He was freshly shaven, well dressed, courtly, deferential.

  Miss Quinn arose to meet him.

  “Miss Quinn,” said Lester Leith, and bowed, “I trust I haven’t inconvenienced you, and that the terms of your employment are satisfactory.”

  She was a well-formed young woman with deep, hazel eyes. Her face was more that of a picture actress than a nurse, but back of the twinkle in her eyes was a shrewd glitter of common sense.

  “You don’t look like a sick man,” she commented.

  Lester Leith let his eye run appraisingly over the contours of her perfect figure.

  “I feel remarkably well, thank you,” he said.

  The suggestion of a flush colored her cheek. “I am afraid you will have to engage another nurse,” she said. “My profession is to minister to the sick, not to furnish companionship to the well!”

  Lester Leith became humble. “I am sorry. But you see I am going to be sick. The illness will prove fatal unless I have the best of nursing.”

  The hazel eyes clouded with suspicion. “When is this sickness to come on?” she asked.

  “At fifteen minutes past five o’clock this afternoon,” said Lester Leith.

  The girl raised her eyes questioningly to the spy, tapped her forehead significantly.

  Lester Leith caught the motion. “No, no, my dear Miss Quinn!” exclaimed Lester Leith, “I am not laboring under any mental derangement whatever. I am merely forewarned of what will happen, and forewarned is forearmed.”

  The valet blurted out the solution. “He’s consulted an astrologer, ma’am!”

  The girl’s eyes snapped. “I see,” she said. “And let me tell you something, Mr. Leith, speaking professionally, you hold the thought over yourself that you’re going to be ill at five o’clock, and you will be ill. Don’t forget that!”

  Lester Leith shook his head.

  “Not at five,” he said. “At five-fifteen.”

  The nurse sighed. “I guess you need me, after all,” she said. “I’ll go and get my things and be back here within an hour, ready to go on the case.”

  Lester Leith’s good feelings seemed to melt from him. “Hurry,” he said. “I’m going to need you badly. You’re the only astrological antidote for the condition of my planets.”

  “Humph,” snorted the young woman. “I’m the only mental antidote for a case of self-hypnosis!”

  And she was gone.

  Lester Leith turned to his valet.

  “Scuttle, I want you to take this check and get it cashed.”

  The spy took the oblong of tinted paper from Lester Leith’s hand.

  “Good heavens, sir! It’s for fifteen thousand dollars!”

  “Yes, Scuttle. It’s for fifteen thousand dollars. You will keep six thousand in cash. The remaining nine thousand you will spend for diamonds. I want some very fine diamonds, a scarf pin, a finger ring, perhaps a watch fob. Get them at Nathan’s. Mr. Nathan is a friend of mine. He will sell you sound values. Return as soon as possible with the money and the jewelry.”

  The valet’s eyes were wide in astonishment. “But I don’t understand, sir!”

  Lester Leith beamed at him.

  “You wouldn’t, Scuttle. I knew you wouldn’t. And, oh yes, by the way, Scuttle, get half a dozen hand bags and place them in the back of my roadster. I shall want to conduct some experiments.”

  The valet’s face lit with understanding. “Oh, yes, sir,” he said, “experiments in crime, sir?”

  Lester Leith shrugged his shoulders.

  “Experiments in psychology, Scuttle,” he said. “And the sooner you start, the sooner you’ll return, and the sooner you return the more you’ll see of the beautiful nurse. You should have a chance to get quite well acquainted with her before—”

  “Before what, sir?”

  “Before I go to the hospital, of course,” said Lester Leith.

  “Yes, sir,” said the spy, and oozed to the door, the check clutched tightly in his hand.

  CHAPTER IX

  According to Schedule

  By the time he returned, Lester Leith was engaged in conversation with Miss Quinn. That young lady had donned a nurse’s cap and apron, and looked very efficient, sternly so. She was talking in low tones to Leith, and Leith, in turn, seemed more dejected than at any time the spy could remember.

  “Now,” said the nurse, when the spy entered the room, “you must sleep.”

  Lester Leith shook his head gloomily. “I can’t sleep.”

  “Well, you can lie down, in any event. I’ll read aloud to you if you can’t get to sleep. But you try.”

  “Very well,” said Lester Leith with the docility of a child. “I’ll try.”

  He stretched himself on the couch. The nurse tiptoed about. Already the atmosphere of a sick room permeated the place.

  The nurse caught the spy’s eye, beckoned to him, tiptoed into an adjoining room, beckoned again.

  The spy followed her eagerly.

  “Listen, Scuttle—”

  “Beg your pardon, ma’am, but the name’s Beaver.”

  The hazel eyes glinted over him in humorous appraisal, and the valet-spy shifted uncomfortably under the girl’s cool regard.

  “All right then, Beaver. Your master’s going to build up a dangerous complex if we don’t do something for him. The first thing to do is humor him, treat him as a potential invalid. Then, as five o’clock approaches, well gradually liven things up until, first thing he knows, hell find there was nothing to his absurd fancy.”

  The valet nodded ponderously.

  “Have you got any whisky in the house?” she asked.

  The valet flushed. “Yes. ma’am.”

  “Lots of it?”

  “A gallon or two, of the best case goods.”

  “That will be fine. I’ll prescribe an eggnog. See that it’s loaded to a fare-you-well. And get that look of gloom off your face. What was it you gave him when you came in?”

  “Some personal things he sent me for, diamonds and money.”

  “Diamonds and money! Are you crazy?”

  The spy’s head rotated upon his massive neck. “No, ma’am. I ain’t. He is.”

  She sighed, regarded the hulking figure once more. “Then it’s contagious,” she remarked, and started from the room.

  The big hand of the spy dropped upon her shoulder in a gesture that was half a caress.

  “Just a moment. I wanted to say —er—that is—”

  She turned. Her eyes were cold. She gave the impression of being a young woman who could take care of herself under any circumstances.

  “Yes?” she said, and something in her tone made Scuttle’s hand drop from her shoulder to his side.

  “I just wanted to mention that if you’d watch and listen quite carefully, it might come in handy later on when you’re called to give your testimony.”

  “Testimony!”

  “Yes, ma’am, but don’t say anything about it.”

  She gave a sniff that showed contempt. “You’re a poor actor,” she said.

  “Meaning?” asked Beaver.

  “That you might fool Mr. Leith, but you won’t fool me,” she said, and flounced from the room, leaving the spy gaping at his reflection in a mirror.

  Fifteen minutes later he was summoned to bring the patient an eggnog. He followed instructions to the letter. It was loaded with whisky until the reek of it permeated the room. Lester Leith held it with quivering hand, drained it, sank back on the couch. The nurse winked at the valet, began to read aloud.

  “This is the bunk!” she said at length. “Haven’t we got something more interesting than this book?”

  Lester Leith shook his head wanly. “I don’t want anything more interesting. I want to think,” he said.

  The girl looked at Beaver.

  “There are some French novels— er—ahem—”

  “That’s fine!” exclaimed the nurse. “Get me some of those.”

  The valet moved away and returned with some deluxe editions. The nurse started to read, and the eyes of Lester Leith glittered to a new interest in life.

  “Another eggnog,” the nurse called over her shoulder.

  The valet knew what that meant. He loaded the second one a little heavier than he had loaded the first. As he brought it into the room, he noticed that the young nurse had, indeed, found something that was highly interesting in the books, for Lester Leith was showing a decided animation as he propped himself up on the couch.