San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1926-04-11


of the Cafe Royal. There was at that
moment more than ordinary crush of
people going in and out; there were sew
eral inner entrances into which the men
might have turned, and the Inspector felt
as if he stood at the entrance to a, sort
of rabbit warren. ignorant of the particu-
lar burrow into which his game had bolted.
But of one thing he was certain and that
was that he had been right in his recog-
milton. And what were those two men
doing together?
He turned into the brasserie, and or
dering modest drink, sat down, and,
without appearing to do so, kept his eyes
open to all around him. At that hour
the place was filled with the sound Of
many voices, the clnking of many glasses,
the scent of many cigars and cigarettes
was in the air. All sorts of natonalities
were represented-there was a mingling
of the tribes and nations such as can only
be seen in London and New York. There
was every language in Europe, and not
a few languages outside it, being. chat
tered. The whole place was as busy and
as lively as an antheap on a working day.
Inspector Dwayne had no desire to
move about among this throng. If the
men he wanted to see again at close quar-
tiers were in that room he would%s soon
find out for himself for, seemingly I'm
observant, he was observing every group
and every individual face. And within a
few minutes he knew they were not there.
That occasioned him no surprise. They
might be supping elsewhere; they might
be supping in a private room. But the
fact remained that he had seen them to-
gether which, to his mind, meant much
And he determined to make another jour
ney on the morrow to the genuine Mr..
Olivares and to ask few more questions
about this clerk Fernandes. M
Just at that moment Fernandes passed
the door opposite which Inspector Dwayne
had purposely taken his seat. He'whs
alone and walking as rapidly as he could
through the press of people crowdihg in
at the Regent street entrance. He looked
as a man looks who wants to get some
where in hurry. The Inspector rose
and went after him, keeping his eyes open
for a sight of the pseudo Olivares.s "a But
of him he saw nothing '"""is
Fernandes went straight up the street,
looking neither to the right nor the left;
and he walked so quickly that Inspector
Dwayne, who was neither as young nor
as athletic as he had been, found some
difficulty in keeping him in view. But
the pursuit was short and simple and the
purpose of the pursued man apparently
devoid of anything sinister. Fernandes
simply turned into Beak street, wound
around into Golden square, and entered
a small hotel with foreign name overits
door. And the Inspector, considering mat
tiers, felt that he could do no more that
night and so went home, and being SEN
sible enough to put all professional mat
tiers away from him as soon as he crossed
his own threshold, ate a hearty supper.
smoked cigar and went to bed to sleep
the sleep of a tired man. =
But he was at his office bright and
early next morning and more resolved
than ever to get at the bottom of some
of the mysteries which were troubling
him. To begin WITH however, two. things
lay on his desk which, instead of doing
anything to solve these mysteries, only
served to heighten them. One was long
thin parcel, wrapped up in brown paper,
sealed and registered; the other was a
somewhat dirty envelope, addressed to
him, and marked private" This the In.
spector opened first, and drawing out 4
sheet of equally doubtful notepaper, read:
Mortimer street, June IL.
"Dear Sir: If you would make it con.
venient to call here any time tomorrow,
have something to tell you that may be
of service.
"Yours faithfully,
aaron Abrahams"
Inspector Dwayne put this in his pocket
and turned his attention to the long thin
parcel. A little time before these events
some person, to whom he had been of SER
vice, had sent him gold-mounted silk
umbrella; he had a vague idea that this
might be another little souvenir of the
same sort. There was a good deal of
brown paDer Wrappinp TO he unrollpd he
fore the object revealed itself, but before
the last folds had been removed Inspector
Dwayne knew that this was no umbrella
He tore off the final folds of paper with
something of a suspicion in his mind
The "sword-stickp'
He laid it across the blotting-pad on his
desk and stared at it as if il had been
a live thing. 1t was fully two minutes
before he picked it up and then he exam
ined it all over carefully. II was lust as
he had seen it last, so far as he could
see. There was not scratch on its highly
polished surface; the silver head was
bright and uninjured, and when he drew
out the stiletto-like blade, short, sharp,
murderous, the stains which meant Marcus
Bartenstein's blood were there as when
the stick had last been in his hands.
He saw, as he replaced the blade, a
scrap of paper which had been curled
around it. Picking this up he saw that
a few words had been written upon it.
not by the hand, but with typewriter.
They formed a mere line. R1d
"This will now be of more use tBSou
than to me- so | return it,"
More mystified than ever, but still frac-
tical, Inspector Dwayne picked up the
outer wrapping in order to ascertain
where the parcel had been sent fror,