Ashton-Kirk, Secret Agent. John Thomas McIntyre

Warwick. "But," with a shake of the head, "St. Petersburg being denied me, I am at a loss."

      "There are two common causes for most things of a criminal nature," said Ashton-Kirk. "These are robbery and revenge. The fact that nothing is known to have been stolen in either of the nightly visits to the house at Sharsdale seems to eliminate the first of these; and that Morse was twice drugged and once waylaid and still not seriously injured, does away with the other."

      "It would seem to."

      There was another pause. The secret agent regarded Warwick intently.

      "Think carefully before answering the question I am now about to ask. What is there in the doctor's possession that you have seen, or have even heard hinted at—that is in any way remarkable or unique?"

      Warwick pondered, but finally shook his head.

      "Take your time—think deliberately. What does he own that would excite the cupidity of persons of much power and great wealth?"

      "I know of nothing," replied the young man.

      "It would scarcely be a thing to be measured by a money value," encouraged the secret agent. "It might be, and the fact that the doctor's papers were once searched seems to indicate it rather strongly—a document."

      Again Warwick shook his head.

      "As I have said, Morse is not of a confiding nature. He keeps his affairs to himself."

      Ashton-Kirk laid his half-burned cigar upon a bronze shell; and as he did so his eyes fell once more upon the drawing of the crowned woman. A sudden tightening about his mouth showed a fresh interest; taking up the drawing he examined it with eager attention. At length he said:

      "Previous to the first visit of Karkowsky at Sharsdale—Morse had never experienced any of the things of which you told me?"

      "No."

      "You are sure of this?"

      "Positive. Old Nanon would have been sure to have heard of them. She has been with him since he was a child."

      "You have mentioned that Dr. Morse is possessed of means. Did he inherit this, or did he accumulate it himself?"

      "He inherited it from his father."

      "Have you ever heard anything uncommon of the father? Any of the sort of things which you have just mentioned?"

      "No. According to Nanon he was an extraordinarily gentle and simple-minded man."

      "Has Dr. Morse ever traveled in the East?"

      "In Egypt and the Holy Lands when a young man, seeking material for his anti-religious lectures. Then, of course, there was the war in Manchuria."

      "Have you ever heard him express any opinion as to Orientals?"

      "Only that they were intelligent and in many ways capable. The Japanese he only came within musket shot of, but," with a smile, "he thinks them very competent fighters."

      Ashton-Kirk joined in the smile.

      "A remarkable race," he said, "and one of whom the last word has not yet been spoken."

      Here Warwick arose and Ashton-Kirk pressed the bell for Stumph.

      "This," said the secret agent, "promises to be a very interesting matter; and, it so happens, one that falls in with my inclinations at this time."

      "You will undertake it then?" eagerly.

      "With pleasure."

      Stumph held open the door that the caller might depart.

      "In behalf of Miss Corbin," said Warwick, earnestly, "I thank you." He hesitated a moment, and then said: "Before making a definite start in the matter, I suppose it will be necessary for you to visit us at Eastbury. I confess that rather puzzles me. You see, I would not have Dr. Morse——"

      "Rest easy as to that," Ashton-Kirk assured him; "we need tell him nothing."

      "When will you come?"

      "To-night."

      Philip Warwick smiled.

      "You are prompt," said he. "But Miss Corbin will be delighted."

      And with that he took his departure.

CHAPTER II

       Table of Contents

Ashton-Kirk Goes to Eastbury

       Table of Contents

      Ashton-Kirk turned to Fuller.

      "Read what you have taken down," he directed.

      Fuller did so, and while he read, the secret agent stood by the window, listening. When the assistant finished the other did not speak; he remained gazing down at the shabby hordes which eddied and murmured in the street. There was a strange look upon the keen, dark face of the watcher; the eyes were full of singular speculation. At last he spoke.

      "Queer things come out of the East," he said. "Even these people below, who have merely lived upon the western fringe of the Orient, are tinged with its mystery. Every now and then an Occidental eye gets a flash of something among them for which we have no explanation."

      "I have felt that frequently," said Fuller; "but never gave much thought to it. Orientals, somehow, have always impressed me uncomfortably; they seem, so to put it, to have something in reserve. It is as though they had a trick or two up their sleeves which they have never shown us."

      Ashton-Kirk nodded.

      "A strange and interesting people," said he. He crossed to the book shelves and took down a thin folio; placing it upon the table, he began to rapidly turn the leaves; a series of Japanese prints fluttered before Fuller's eyes.

      "There are numberless things which are held as marking the line of division between the races of the East and West," remarked Ashton-Kirk. "But," with a smile, "I have an idea that food and the cooking thereof has more to do with it than anything else. The mental and physical differences are the results of this. And in nothing does the Japanese, for example, show the result of his nourishment as in the matter of art. His hand in a drawing is unmistakable."

      He closed the volume of prints; and from a stand took a telephone book and opened it at Eastbury. This was a "Boom" suburb, and as yet had no great population; down the list of subscribers ran the inquiring finger; at length it paused and a slight hissing intake of the breath told of a discovery.

      "Good," said he.

      Tossing the book to Fuller, he added:

      "Find Dr. Morse's number in Fordham Road."

      While the deft fingers of his assistant ran through the pages, Ashton-Kirk turned to a sort of rack; throwing open one of the huge rolls which it contained, he displayed a section of a marvelously complete map of the city and suburbs. It was done by hand and in variously colored inks; every street, avenue, court and alley were clearly traced; each house and number was microscopically set down. This map was the growth of years; each month it was altered in some small way as the city expanded; the care taken with it was the same as that which a business house gave its ledgers. Again the long, inquiring finger began to move.

      "Ah! Fordham Road is the first street east of Berkley."

      "Dr. Morse's address is 2979," said Fuller, looking up from the directory.

      "The same block!" cried Ashton-Kirk, his finger searching among the lines. Then he burst into a laugh and allowed the spring to whisk the map out of view. "Their houses stand back to back," said he.

      Fuller's expression indicated curiosity;