He switched on the light in the upper hall and led the way up the stairs. As he halted before the door, fumbling with the key, he turned to the two policemen. “You’d better have your revolvers ready,” he said. “They’re desperate characters.”

“Open the door and then stand back,” directed one of the officers.

Maddox pushed the door violently inward and leaped to one side. The interior of the room beyond was brilliantly lighted, but in that portion of it visible through the open doorway there was no one in sight. One of the officers advanced cautiously with drawn revolver.

“There aint no one here,” he announced.

“They must of beat it,” said the other.

The three men were now standing inside the doorway. “How about that door over there?” demanded the first officer. “Let’s have a look in there.”

“No!” Maddox almost shrieked. “They’re not in there. That door’s locked.”

“What’s in there?” demanded the second officer, with the natural suspicion of his vocation.

“The master,” replied Maddox. “He’s sick. He can’t be disturbed.”

“So you puts a couple of stick-up guys in the next room to him!”

“There was no other place to put them, where they couldn’t escape.”

“Then where are they? How about them windows?” The officer started to investigate.

“They couldn’t escape that way,” said Maddox. “It’s a hundred feet to the ground, on this side of the house.”

“We’ll have a look anyway,” said the officer. “They aint no one asleep out there, is there?” he added, ironically. He jerked the hangings violently aside. With an ejaculation, he stepped back, levelling his revolver. A young man and a girl stood facing him upon a small balcony. The young man’s left arm was about the girl. In his right hand he held a naked saber.

“Drop that and stick ’em up!” commanded the policeman.

The young man let the saber slip from his grasp. “We’re not armed,” he said.

“Shut up!” snapped the officer. “And stick ’em up. Now come on in here. Make it snappy.”

“What’s this all about anyway?” demanded the young man, as he entered the room with his companion.

“That’s what we want to know,” said the policeman.

“Well, ask him,” said the young man, pointing to Maddox. “He forced us into the house and up here, at the point of a gun.”

“They were trying to break in,” explained Maddox, excitedly. “I saw them in the entry with a flashlight.”

“We were just looking for directions,” said the young man. “We were–”

“Yeah?” said the first officer skeptically. “You can tell that to the judge.”

“I tell you we haven’t done anything,” insisted the young man.

“Only held up someone on Cherokee near Sunset,” chortled Maddox.

“How do you know?” demanded the second officer.

“I heard it over the police radio broadcast,” said Maddox, triumphantly. “Look at them. ‘Man about five feet ten,’” he quoted, “smooth face; no hat; grey coat; white pants. Woman about five feet five; yellow hair, light colored dress.’ Look at them! Aint that their description? And then they came up here to rob the master.”

“These aint them,” said the first officer. “Number two-fourteen picked them two up half an hour ago while they was pullin’ another job”

“But these may be a couple of others,” suggested the second officer. “Because what were they doing here, anyway?”

“Yes, what were they doing here?” demanded Maddox, slightly disappointed that these were not the two particular criminals he had believed them but still determined to prove that they were criminals of some description.

“I have been trying to tell you what we were doing here, if you will only listen to me,” said the young man.

“Come along,” said the first officer. “I told you once you could tell it to the judge.”

“You’d better listen,” advised the prisoner. “It, will save you from looking foolish later.”

The first officer hesitated. “Let him talk,” said the second officer, “it won’t do no harm.”

“Well, spill it, then, but don’t try to get fresh with me.”

“This young lady and I,” began the young man, “were guests at a party given by my aunt, Mrs. Walker. You men probably have heard the name. She is the wife of Thomas Walker, one of the police commissioners. It was a treasure hunt and we were just following directions. Look at this.” He handed a crumpled bit of paper to one of the policemen.

The officer took it and read aloud:

 

“There is a house upon a hill

“Where dwell the landed gentry.

“Follow the road at the old blue mill,

“And search the Gothic entry.”

 

“What the–!” exclaimed the officer, disgustedly. “That don’t mean nothin’.”

“Sure it does,” said the second officer. “I know all about them treasure hunts. My daughter’s been on ’em. That poetry told them to turn at the bakery down at the corner of Sunset, don’t you see, and come up the hill to this house–say, what’s a Gothic entry?”

“The entrance to this house is Gothic,” explained Maddox.

“Well, why didn’t you say who you was in the first place?” demanded the first officer.

“I’ve been trying to explain all evening–ever since this person dragged us in here–but no one would listen to me.”

“Well,” said the officer, in an altered tone of voice. “You come along with us to Mr. Walker’s house and if he says you’re O.K. it’s all right by me.”

The young man breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Come on,” he said to the girl. “It’s all over but the shouting.”

“Have you forgotten that?” she asked, pointing toward the locked door across the room. There was a subdued note of horror in her voice that attracted the alert attention of the policemen.

“What is it?” asked one of them. “What do you mean, miss?”

“Look behind that door,” she said, her voice breaking hysterically.

“There’s nothing there,” broke in Maddox, excitedly. “It’s the master’s bath. He’s asleep in the next room. Don’t disturb him. He’s sick.”

“Look on the floor,” whispered the girl.

The four men approached the door and as they neared it and saw the red pool on the oak floor before it, Maddox voiced an exclamation that was half scream.

“God!” he cried. “They’ve broke in and murdered him.”

“That blood was there when we were put in this room,” said the young man. “It was one of the first things we noticed. We heard groans coming from beyond that door and we investigated. Then we saw the blood. The door was locked when we were put in here. It is locked now. You may search us for the key, but you won’t find it–on us. Whoever is in there was murdered before we came in. Ask that man about it!” He pointed at the horrified Maddox.

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!” cried the servant. “You saw him with a sword in his hand. He did it!”

“Keep your eye on these two, Tom,” said the first officer, “while I break down this door.”

“Wait, you don’t have to break it down,” said Maddox. “Here’s the key.”

“What did I tell you?” demanded the young man.

The officer turned the key in the lock and swung the door open. At his feet lay the body of an old man, slumped upon the floor of a green tile bathroom. The grey head lay in a red pool, from which a little trickle had found its way beneath the door into the adjoining room.

“This looks like a job for the coroner and the homicide squad,” remarked the second officer.

“Oh, my poor master! Poor Mr. Seegar!” sobbed Maddox. “They’ve murdered you. Why did I let them in! Oh, why did I let them in!”

“Did you hear any sound of a fight up here?” demanded the first officer.

“Oh, no, sir!” replied Maddox. “I was listening to the radio.”

“I tell you that blood was here when this fellow brought us upstairs,” said the young man.

“Shut up!” admonished the first officer. “This looks bad for all of you.” He turned to Maddox. “When did you see your–the old man last?”

“Just before these two came and tried to break in,” replied Maddox. “He was–er–well–he had drunk a bit too much, sir. He did occasionally, sir, and I had taken him up a plate of salty crackers and a glass of tomato juice, sir. He always has them when he’s trying to get over one of his–er–spells, sir, you might call them. They seem to brace him up, sir.”

The first officer had kneeled beside the body and placed an ear over the man’s heart. “Phew!” he ejaculated. Then he stuck his finger into the red pool beside the grey head, held it to his nose, and smelled. “Cripe!” he exclaimed angrily, rising to his feet. “This old guy aint dead, he’s drunk; and this aint blood–it’s tomato juice! Say, what you guys tryin’ to do–kid someone?” Then he turned to his partner. “We’ll take these two along,” he said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the young man and his companion, “and let the commissioner have a look at ’em.”

“Oh, I guess they’re all right,” replied the other officer. “Here,” he nodded to Maddox, “I’ll give you a hand with the old man,” and together the two carried Jephet Seegar to his bed.

“Well, we got out of that better than I expected for a while,” said the young man as he settled down beside the girl in the back seat of the police car.

“You were lucky the old man was only drunk,” interjected one of its officers, “for if he’d been dead youd’uv been in a hell of a mess, even if your uncle is a police commissioner. I never doubted you none from the first and when I seen how anxious the young lady was to investigate what was in the next room I knew you was O.K. No crook would’uv wanted to take a chance’uv hanging anything like that on himself.”

Maddox made his master comfortable in bed, mopped up the bathroom floor, turned out the lights, and descended to his own quarters in the basement. A draught of air met him as he passed the entrance to Jephet’s old-fashioned bar, a draught of air blowing where no draught should be.

Maddox entered the room and switched on the lights. Across from him a window was wide open. Maddox knitted his brows in speculation as he crossed to close it; then he gasped in astonishment and fear–the lock had been forced.

Pale and trembling he hurried to his own room, and as the light from the electric bulb flooded the interior his worst fears were realized. With a groan of anguish, he sank to the floor beside an opening that had been made by removing a loose board, and thrust a hand into the dark hole.

His face was ghastly in its blue whiteness; he choked and clutched at his coat above his heart.

“All gone!” The words were scarcely articulate gasps. “All gone!” Then he stiffened for an instant before he slumped forward upon his face across the rifled sanctuary of what had been his god.

“If you don’t mind, Mrs. Walker,” said the girl, after the satisfied police officers had departed from the home of her hostess, “if you don’t mind, I think I’ll be going. What I’ve been through tonight has about done me up.”

“Of course, I don’t mind, my dear; I understand perfectly. I think you have been very brave. It has all been so confusing I am quite upset myself. Where in the world those directions came from that sent you up to Jephet Seegar’s house, I’m sure I can’t imagine.”

“Oh, some joker thought he’d be funny and gum up the party,” suggested the young man. “Come on; I’ll get you home before the rest of the crowd gets back”; he took the girl by the arm and led her down to his car.

“After tonight it seems as though I had known you for years,” he said after they had driven a few blocks in silence. “Funny how we met, wasn’t it? Must have been Fate that made your engine stall right in front of the house. If it had happened a hundred feet before or after, you’d have gone into another house for help and I’d never have met you.”

“Wasn’t it silly!’ she exclaimed. “There wasn’t anything wrong with the old thing at all. You started it the first time you tried.”

“And then a week that I’ll never forget,” he sighed. “When I wasn’t with you I was miserable.”

“So was I,” she whispered.

“Was it so that we could be alone together that you suggested this treasure hunt?” he asked.

“Perhaps.”

They rode in silence the few remaining blocks to the Plaza Hotel where she was stopping.

“Just leave me at the curb,” she directed. “I’m tired and want to go to bed, or I’d ask you in.”

As she walked from the taxi to the hotel entrance he sat looking after her longingly.

“Good night,” he called, and she turned at the doorway and smiled back at him. “See you tomorrow,” she said as he moved his car out into the stream of traffic.

“Oh, yeah?” she said below her breath, as she watched him drive away, and when he had disappeared around the first corner the girl recrossed the walk to the curb and entered one of the waiting taxis, giving an address in the south part of the city.

Fifteen minutes later she paid off the driver in front of a second rate apartment house. With a key she unlocked a door on the second floor and entered the living room of an apartment where a frowsy, middle aged woman was mixing highballs for herself and two dapper young men.

“Well?” inquired the girl as she crossed the room toward them.

“Swell, kid,” replied one of the men pulling her into his lap and kissing her.

“How much?” she insisted.

“Twenty-five grand,” he replied, “thanks to you and Ma Blump.”

Jephet Seegar slept peacefully in his hillside home in Hollywood; two floors below, the body of Maddox slowly stiffened in the awkward posture of death. In the home of the police commissioner a young man dreamed of a girl, and in the south part of the city the girl finished another highball and went to bed with a dapper youth with sleek hair.

 (Continued From Part 1 in ERBzine 8056)