The Treasure Train
On Sale
$3.00
$3.00
“I am not by nature a spy, Professor Kennedy, but...well, sometimes one is forced into something like that.” Maude Euston, who had sought out Craig in his laboratory, was a striking girl, not merely because she was pretty or because her gown was modish. Perhaps it was her sincerity and artlessness that made her attractive. She was the daughter of Barry Euston, president of the Continental Express Company, and one could readily see why, aside from the position her father held, she should be among the most-sought-after young women in the city. Maude looked straight into Craig’s eyes as she added, without waiting for him to ask a question. Yesterday I heard something that has made me think a great deal. You know, we live at the St. Germaine when we are in town. I’ve noticed for several months past the lobbies are full of strange, foreign-looking people. Well, yesterday afternoon I was sitting alone in the tea-room of the hotel, waiting for some friends. On the other side of a huge palm I heard a couple whispering. I have seen the woman about the hotel often, though I know that she doesn’t live there. The man I don’t remember ever having seen before. They mentioned the name of Granville Barnes, treasurer of father’s company...”
“Is that so?” cut in Craig, quickly. “I read the story about him in the papers this morning.”
As for myself, I was instantly alive with interest, too.
Granville Barnes had been suddenly stricken while riding in his car in the country, and the report had it that he was hovering between life and death in the General Hospital. The chauffeur had been stricken, too, by the same incomprehensible malady, though apparently not so badly. How the chauffeur managed to save the car was a miracle, but he brought it to a stop beside the road, where the two were found gasping, a quarter of an hour later, by a passing motorist, who rushed them to a doctor, who had them transferred to the hospital in the city. Neither of them seemed able or willing to throw any light on what had happened.
“Just what was it you overheard?” encouraged Craig.
“I heard the man tell the woman,” Maude replied, slowly, “that now was the chance...when any of the great warring powers would welcome and wink at any blow that might cripple the other to the slightest degree. I heard him say something about the Continental Express Company, and that was enough to make me listen, for, you know, father’s company is handling the big shipments of gold and securities that are coming here from abroad by way of Halifax. Then I heard her mention the names of Mr. Barnes and of Mr. Lane, too, the general manager.” She paused, as though not relishing the idea of having the names bandied about. “Last night the...the attack on him...for that is all that I can think it was occurred.”
As she stopped again, I could not help thinking what a tale of strange plotting the casual conversation suggested. New York, I knew, was full of high-class international crooks and flim-flammers who had flocked there because the great field of their operations in Europe was closed. The war had literally dumped them on us. Was someone using a band of these crooks for ulterior purposes? The idea opened up wide possibilities.
“Of course,” Maude continued, “that is all I know; but I think I am justified in thinking the two things...the shipment of gold here and the attack, have some connection. Oh, can’t you take up the case and look into it?”
She made her appeal so winsomely that it would have been difficult to resist even if it had not promised to prove important.
“I should be glad to take up the matter,” replied Craig, quickly, adding, “if Mr. Barnes will let me.”
“Oh, he must!” she cried. “I haven’t spoken to father, but I know that he would approve of it. I know he thinks I haven’t any head for business, just because I wasn’t born a boy. I want to prove to him that I can protect the companies interests. And Mr. Barnes...why, of course he will approve.”
She said it with an assurance that made me wonder. It was only then that I recollected it had been one of the excuses for printing her picture in the society columns of the Star so often the pretty daughter of the president of the Continental was being ardently wooed by two of the company’s younger officials. Granville Barnes was one. The other was Rodman Lane, the young general manager. I wished now that I had paid more attention to the society news. Perhaps I should have been in a better position to judge which of them it was whom she really had chosen. As it was, two questions presented themselves to me. Was it Granville? And had Granville really been the victim of an attack. or of an accident?
Craig may have been thinking the problems over, but he gave no evidence of it. He threw on his hat and coat, and was ready in a moment to be driven in Maude’s car to the hospital. There, after the usual cutting of red tape which only Maude could have accomplished, we were led by a white-uniformed nurse through the silent halls to the private room occupied by Granville.
“Is that so?” cut in Craig, quickly. “I read the story about him in the papers this morning.”
As for myself, I was instantly alive with interest, too.
Granville Barnes had been suddenly stricken while riding in his car in the country, and the report had it that he was hovering between life and death in the General Hospital. The chauffeur had been stricken, too, by the same incomprehensible malady, though apparently not so badly. How the chauffeur managed to save the car was a miracle, but he brought it to a stop beside the road, where the two were found gasping, a quarter of an hour later, by a passing motorist, who rushed them to a doctor, who had them transferred to the hospital in the city. Neither of them seemed able or willing to throw any light on what had happened.
“Just what was it you overheard?” encouraged Craig.
“I heard the man tell the woman,” Maude replied, slowly, “that now was the chance...when any of the great warring powers would welcome and wink at any blow that might cripple the other to the slightest degree. I heard him say something about the Continental Express Company, and that was enough to make me listen, for, you know, father’s company is handling the big shipments of gold and securities that are coming here from abroad by way of Halifax. Then I heard her mention the names of Mr. Barnes and of Mr. Lane, too, the general manager.” She paused, as though not relishing the idea of having the names bandied about. “Last night the...the attack on him...for that is all that I can think it was occurred.”
As she stopped again, I could not help thinking what a tale of strange plotting the casual conversation suggested. New York, I knew, was full of high-class international crooks and flim-flammers who had flocked there because the great field of their operations in Europe was closed. The war had literally dumped them on us. Was someone using a band of these crooks for ulterior purposes? The idea opened up wide possibilities.
“Of course,” Maude continued, “that is all I know; but I think I am justified in thinking the two things...the shipment of gold here and the attack, have some connection. Oh, can’t you take up the case and look into it?”
She made her appeal so winsomely that it would have been difficult to resist even if it had not promised to prove important.
“I should be glad to take up the matter,” replied Craig, quickly, adding, “if Mr. Barnes will let me.”
“Oh, he must!” she cried. “I haven’t spoken to father, but I know that he would approve of it. I know he thinks I haven’t any head for business, just because I wasn’t born a boy. I want to prove to him that I can protect the companies interests. And Mr. Barnes...why, of course he will approve.”
She said it with an assurance that made me wonder. It was only then that I recollected it had been one of the excuses for printing her picture in the society columns of the Star so often the pretty daughter of the president of the Continental was being ardently wooed by two of the company’s younger officials. Granville Barnes was one. The other was Rodman Lane, the young general manager. I wished now that I had paid more attention to the society news. Perhaps I should have been in a better position to judge which of them it was whom she really had chosen. As it was, two questions presented themselves to me. Was it Granville? And had Granville really been the victim of an attack. or of an accident?
Craig may have been thinking the problems over, but he gave no evidence of it. He threw on his hat and coat, and was ready in a moment to be driven in Maude’s car to the hospital. There, after the usual cutting of red tape which only Maude could have accomplished, we were led by a white-uniformed nurse through the silent halls to the private room occupied by Granville.