“Come in, come in. You’ve ruined the reputation of an honest man. It isn’t enough. You probably want to turn everything upside down. But come and have it over with. I am a busy man. The sooner you come the sooner you go. The sooner you go, the sooner I can get to work. And it will take work to build up my reputation again. After this, people will be afraid to do business with Moe Silverstein.” But Silvey paid no attention to the patter. He pushed the little man aside, held him against the wall, jerked his head to the squad outside.

  “Make a good job of it, boys.”

  They came trooping in. The dirty floor gritted with the shuffle of many feet. The door slammed shut again.

  “Start with the safe!” snapped Silvey.

  The safe was as ancient and old-fashioned as the rest of the office. It was a massive affair of iron—heavy, cumbersome. The walls were nearly eighteen inches thick. Upon the grimy doors appeared a dirty, checkered landscape. The paint had long since cracked and peeled in places, leaving only glimpses of grimy color.

  The hinges had once been nickeled. Now they were rusted and tarnished. Great bolts held the hinges to the body. Above the door appeared in dirty gilt paint the name of Moe Silverstein. The knob of the combination was so begrimed that it was hard to distinguish the various figures.

  “Open it!” snapped Lieutenant Silvey.

  “You have a warrant?” asked the bent little man, his large, mournful eyes appraising Silvey in unwinking humility and hurt amazement, much as a wounded deer regards the approaching hunter.

  Silvey cursed.

  “I’ve got a red hot tip that you’ve got the Follingsby diamonds. I’ve got no time to monkey. Eitner you show us around here of your own accord or you go to jail as a suspect, and we get a process of court to-morrow. Which’ll it be?”

  “Such goings on!” exclaimed the little man, but he bent to the safe. “And you all see the combination as I turn it!” he muttered.

  Silvey snorted.

  “Open it up. We’ll see what’s in it.”

  The bony fingers turned the dial. Because of its grimy condition, the fingers moved it very slowly. The eyes of the officers were on the bony hands with the large blue veins. The eyes of Lester Leith were on the ancient safe, the turning dial, the tarnished figures.

  The clicking of the bolts preceded the opening of the huge door. Lieutenant Silvey’s hand grasped Silverstein’s collar, jerked him back.

  “Don’t touch anything, Moe.”

  “What?” wailed the bent man. “My private documents? My books? My own profit and loss? The police have no business with them. Surely—”

  He became quiet as Silvey’s hands darted about the interior of the safe.

  It was as the man had said. Books, trinkets, odds and ends, filled the grimy interior of the safe, smaller than one would have judged from the outside. But the massive walls left room for only one shallow compartment, sharply different from the modern cabinet with only an inch or two of thickness.

  While the lieutenant went through the safe, his men went through the room. Not a thing was left untouched. They even covered the wall, the ceiling, the floor. When they had finished, they were no better off than when they started.

  Disappointed eye met disappointed eye, turned to the large, placid eyes of Moe Silverstein.

  “Such an outrage! Now you are finished. I hope you leave me alone for another two weeks.”

  Silvey’s hand caught the man’s coat. A nod enlisted the aid of the other officers. They combed every fold of his garments, and that search, also, was fruitless. A money belt disclosed a large sum of money. But there was absolutely nothing in the line of jewelry, much less the Follingsby diamonds.

  “Do we hold’m?’

  The little man sputtered into a volcano of protest at the question.

  “Hold me? Hold me! Because some crook says he gave me a necklace you hold me without a warrant, without evidence? In the night time? What an outrage! You have made your search. You have found nothing. You will put shadows on my trail again. For a week, two weeks, everywhere I go I will be trailed. But that I cannot help!”

  “Aw, shut your mouth, Moe!”

  “But try and arrest me! Try to take me from my place of business without a warrant! Just try it. I will have it such a judgment that my lawyer will rub his hands. I will bring a suit against the police, against the rich millionaire who claims to have lost his diamond necklace. Ah, what a nice suit it will be!”

  Lieutenant Silvey made a peculiar, tasting grimace with his lips, like one who has bit into a persimmon and found it green. His eyes rested in cold dislike upon the bent form of the fence, then flicked over Lester Leith’s smiling countenance.

  “That’s all,” he snapped.

  “I’ll drive around to Mrs. Follinsby’s and get Miss Stagud, lieutenant, if you don’t mind.”

  Silvey strode from the place. He dared not make any charges against this man who was prominent socially, reputed to be immensely wealthy. The police suspected what they suspected, but they dared make no direct accusation without evidence. Nor did he dare to arrest Moe Silverstein—yet. Roberts could tell his story. If the Follingsbys wanted to swear out a warrant the police would gladly serve it. But Moe Silverstein was clever, damnably clever.

  The disgruntled lieutenant barked an order. Men withdrew from the place.

  Of the entire crowd, Lester Leith was the only one whose face did not show savage disappointment.

  He stopped to light a cigarette, and the wind blew out the match. With no trace of hurry in his leisurely motions, he reached for another match.

  “Come on, if you’re going back with us,” snapped Silvey.

  “Presently. I must have my smoke, lieutenant.”

  Another match flickered out. Leith reached in his pocket. Silvey leaned forward, spoke softly to the driver.

  “Get a taxi then!” roared the lieutenant, and the car whisked away from the curb, leaving Leith standing there, an expression of almost comic bewilderment on his face.

  “Hey! Wait!” he called.

  But Lieutenant Silvey was having his first pleasant experience of the evening. “Go like hell,” he told the driver.

  The red car screamed around the corner, and, with its disappearance, Lester Leith rippled into swift activity. Like the shadow leaf he darted back to the dingy door.

  V

  Open up! We’re coming back!” he bellowed.

  The door swung open.

  “Such an old trick! Do you think I make necklaces from thin air? That I would produce—”

  Moe Silverstein broke off in surprise as he saw the lone figure at the door.

  Lester Leith strode across the threshold, entered the room, slammed the door.

  The safe still remained open, the books taken from it and piled on the floor. The entire place was just as the police had left it. It was as though the fence had awaited their return.

  “Just be seated,” ordered Leith, and pushed the stooped figure into a chair. His hands made swift motions that seemed like the fluttering gestures of a hypnotist. But each of those motions was deadly efficient.

  His silk scarf was thrust into the mouth of the fence. Short lengths of cord bound the hands and feet to the chair. And then Lester Leith turned to the safe.

  The large, soulful eyes of the fence followed his every motion.

  “Rather unusual to have the hinges bolted on in just this manner—eh, Moe?”

  Leith’s voice was pleasant, purring, but, at the words, the color drained from the face of the bound figure. He struggled frantically against his bonds.

  Leith laughed outright, picked up a small wrench that had been in the safe.

  “And the wrench should have given the police their clew. One doesn’t ordinarily keep small wrenches in one’s safe, eh, Moe?”

  Leith’s swift ringers fitted the wrench to the small, nickeled heads of the bolts, gave a few turns until the bolts twisted freely in his fingers.

  Then a startling thing developed. The bolts were not merely short bits of metal holding the door to the safe.

  Instead, they went the entire length of the safe, proving to be long rods with a few threads at the extreme end.

  As the rods were removed from the safe, the entire left wall of the massive box dropped forward on the inside. What had been thick metal, supposedly stuffed with asbestos, became merely a hollow shell, and the white that caught the faint rays of the light was the top of a tuft of cotton.

  The interior wall was hinged at the bottom. It dropped forward and down. Had the bolt been removed while the safe was closed no clew would have been given as to the secret compartment.

  Lester Leith’s gloved hand darted into the compartment, groped for a moment and then pulled a glittering string of gems into the light. Again the hand made a swift trip. This time loose gems of the finest water came to view. Again and again, the hand slipped into the compartment. When it had made its last trip Lester Leith sighed with sheer delight.

  The figure on the chair was throwing itself against the pressure of the cords like a fish flopping on the floor of a boat.

  Leith closed the compartment, replaced the bolts, smiled at the bound and struggling figure, caught the glare of agonized rage in the large eyes.

  “Tut, tut, Moe, you shouldn’t take it so hard. It’s all stolen, you know. And you inspired most of the thefts. Take the Follingsby affair, for instance. You led an honest servant to crime, arranged things so an innocent girl would probably have been convicted, sent to the penitentiary. And Lord knows how many other crimes have been hatched in that maggoty brain of yours.

  “I’ll loosen the cords a bit so you can get yourself free in five minutes or so. I’m not in the least afraid of you making a report to the police, or shouting for help. I am a little afraid you might find a knife or a gun somewhere.

  “I’ll take the gag, if you don’t mind. I like that scarf very much. Hereafter it’ll have most pleasant associations. I wouldn’t have gagged you at all, only you might have acted on impulse and made a noise before you thought of the effect.

  “Good night, Moe, good night!”

  And Lester Leith stepped to the door, shot back the bolts and slipped out into the night. Two blocks later he found a cruising cab. He arrived at the Follingsby residence shortly after the police had left with their prisoner.

  In his red roadster he found a shadow, huddled down upon the cushions.

  “Oh, it’s you. I waited to thank you. Lieutenant Silvey said you were coming in a cab.”

  Miss Dixie Stagud’s voice was vibrant with gratitude. “No thanks necessary. I assure you it’s been a most pleasant and profitable evening. I’ll drop you at your hotel on my way home.”

  “I—I haven’t any hotel. I haven’t even any money.”

  There was a swift motion. Leith’s hand closed over the girl’s cold fingers, pressed something into them.

  “Merely an advance on the settlement Follingsby will make on our suit for false imprisonment. He won’t want the notoriety of a lawsuit over the thing—And the Rossmore is an excellent hotel. We’ll drive by there.”

  The girl fingered the crisp bills.

  “You’re so good—so wonderful—and I feel you don’t even intend to start a suit against the Follingsbys. You’re just trying to give me this money—I can’t take it.”

  But Leith’s reassuring laugh mingled with the purring throb of the motor.

  “I’m not given to lying as a rule, my dear young lady, please believe me when I assure you that this is purely a matter or business with me. I might almost say that it’s the riding of a hobby, the practising of a profession.”

  And there was that in his tone that carried conviction. “But you put up bail, came to my rescue—”

  Two arms clasped around his neck. The car swerved as a warm kiss was implanted full upon his lips.

  Lester Leith gave a low laugh of sheer pleasure, a laugh that echoed his enjoyment of life. One hand left the steering wheel, patted her shoulder. She snuggled close to him, squeezing his arm, stopping from time to time to wipe tears of relief from her eyes.

  At the door of the hotel he sprang to the ground, assisted her to alight.

  “How did you know I was innocent?” she asked, anxious to get his opinion or her.

  He laughed. “Your name. It’s pronounced Staygood. No girl with such a name could steal gems.”

  She joined in his laughter, but there was a note of unappeased curiosity in her voice. She would have asked more, but Lester Leith escorted her to the desk, saw that the clerk understood her lack of baggage, raised his hat, bowed formally, and returned to his roadster. Around the corner, he drove into an alley, jumped from the car and went to the rear where two spare tires were mounted. His swift fingers unscrewed the tire cap in the innermost tire, which turned out not to be a tire at all, but a carefully designed receptacle for such things as might be dropped into it through the small opening.

  He stuffed the gems through this opening, replaced the cap, and drove through the other end of the alley, swung to the boulevard and back to his apartments.

  With the car safely locked in his garage, he came up on the elevator, opened his door, and met Scuttle’s questioning look with a smile.

  “And now, we’ll have that coffee, Scuttle.”

  The valet nodded, turned, then paused as there came a pounding on the door. Without waiting for his master’s permission, he swung the door open.

  Lieutenant Silvey and two uniformed policemen stepped into the room.

  “Sorry, Leith. We’ve followed you up from the garage. We’ll have to search you.”

  “Search me;”

  “Yep. We stuck a shadow on Moe Silverstein’s. The shadow reports that he saw you come out. Five minutes afterward Moe came running to the sidewalk waving his hands like a crazy man. He yelled that he’d been robbed, and then, when the officer wanted more information, dried up like a clam.

  “What did you go back there for?”

  “To get more matches,” smiled Lester Leith. “You’ll remember I was trying to light a cigarette? The wind whipped out three matches, and I didn’t have any more. You drove away and left me standing there, and I did want a smoke.

  “So I remembered Moe and stepped back. The door was unlocked. There was a box of matches on top of the safe, I remembered, and so I took a few out. Naturally, I didn’t pay Moe for them. Isn’t it just like his avaricious nature to think he should have been paid—robbed of a handful of matches, eh? Ha. Ha.”

  Silvey’s eyes glinted from those of the valet, took on a dangerous gleam. “You object to being searched?”

  “No, no. Not in the slightest. I was merely thinking what a comedy it all was, all over a match.”

  Silvey snorted.

  “We’ve already searched your car. They’re not there. They must be on you. Personally, I feel we’re hot on the trail of the Follingsby diamonds.”

  Leith drew himself to his full height.

  “That, gentlemen, comes dangerously near being an accusation. Please make haste and then leave me, Scuttle, get that coffee ready. I’ll have my cup as soon as these well-meaning but blundering minions of the law leave.”

  “Maybe you’ll go with us,” growled Silvey.

  The search netted them one handful of matches, a very well filled wallet, a cigarette case, pen and pencil, a small notebook, and a supercilious smile.

  “Really, gentlemen,” drawled Lester Leith when they had finished, “I wouldn’t want to seem to make light of your profession; but that search was so meaningless a gesture, such a foolish move! And you think you’re hot on the trail of the Follingsby diamonds, eh?

  “You know I’m minded of a slang expression. ‘Not so hot.’ Really, gentlemen, I feel it will be quite a long time before you ever see any of those diamonds. Of course, that’s merely my personal opinion. I may be wrong.”

  Lieutenant Silvey’s face darkened with wrath, for a moment he glared into the eyes of Lester Leith. Then his gaze flashed to Scuttle, gave him a meaning glance, and the officer turned to the door.

  “Come on, boys, he said.

  The door slammed. Lester Leith sank into his deep chair. “The coffee, Scuttle?”

  “In a moment, sir.”

  Leith stretched, sighed, yawned. “After all, Scuttle, it’s an interesting field of thought those gentlemen from headquarters have opened up. Suppose Moe Silverstein did have those gems secreted? He’d probably nave a great deal more of stolen property hidden in the same place.

  “Then suppose, now, mind you, Scuttle, I’m just supposing; suppose I should have detected that hiding place, returned and robbed the man?

  “You see, he’d hardly dare to complain. A complaint would have necessitated a description of the loot and he’d have to point out the place from which it had been taken. You see, the very thorough police search of the office made but a few moments before, would have precluded the idea of any jewels being there—unless they were in a most secret place.

  “It’s rather an interesting thought, Scuttle. Particularly so when one considers that Moe Silverstein is a criminal of the highest intelligence, but the lowest morals. He conspires to commit crimes, gets others to betray the confidences of their employers. It would hardly be a crime to rob him, rather a public benefaction.

  “Yes, Scuttle, the idea has much to commend it. If you should ever contemplate a criminal career, my dear Scuttle, I would suggest that you limit your activities to robbing robbers. Not only is there less moral stigma attached to the operation, but there is virtually no risk. The victims dare not complain.”

  Scuttle’s lips clenched tightly. Color flooded his face. Almost it seemed that Lester Leith was mocking him. “Nevertheless.” he said with forceful tone, “Lieutenant Silvey will get that necklace. He’s a clever man, a very clever man.”

  Lester Leith glanced at the door through which the irate officer had vanished, sipped his coffee, and smiled. “Not so hot, Scuttle. Not so hot.”