building, while in his own private office Gard paced the floor, from
time to time punching the open palm of his left hand with the clenched
fist of his right, in fury at himself.

"Am I mad--am I mad?" he repeated mechanically. "Has the devil gotten
into me?" His confidential clerk knocked, and seeing the Great Man's
face, paused in trepidation. "What is it? What is it?" snapped Gard.

"There's Brenchcrly, sir, in the outer office. He wouldn't give his
message--said you'd want to see him in private; so I ventured--"

"Brencherly!" Gard's heart missed a beat. He stopped short. He felt the
mysterious dread from which he had suffered to be shaping itself from
the darkness of uncertainty. "Show him in," he ordered, and, turning to
the window, gazed blindly out, centering his self-control. "Well?" he
said without turning, as he heard the door open and close again.

"Mr. Gard," came the quiet voice of the detective, "I've a piece of
information, that, from what you told me the other day, I thought might
interest you. I have found out that Mr. Mahr is making every effort to
find out the combination of Mrs. Marteen's private safe."

"What!"

"Yes. I learned it from one of the men in the Cole agency. Mr. Mahr
didn't come to us. I'm not betraying any trust, you see. It was Balling,
one of the cleverest men they've got, but he drinks. I was out with him
last night, and he let it out; he said it was the rummiest job they'd
had in a long day, and that his chief wouldn't have taken it, but he had
a lot of commissions from Mahr, and I guess, besides, he gave some