and make no secret of it, then returned to work with a laugh upon his
lips.

Contrary to his habit he remained in his office during the luncheon
hour, having a tray sent in. He was to remain invisible. Mahr would
doubtless make every effort to find him by what might appear accident.
Later a message, asking him to join a bridge game at the Metropolitan
Club, caused him to chuckle. His would-be host was a friend of Mahr's.
He answered curtly that he was sick of wasting his time at cards, and
had decided to drop it for a while, hanging up the receiver so abruptly
that the conversation ceased in the midst of a word. An hour later Mahr
addressed him over the wire.

"Ah, Gard, is that you? I called you up to tell you the Heim Vandyke has
just been sent up to me. I hear you were interested in it yourself,
though you saw only the photograph. Don't you want to stop in on your
way uptown and see it? It's a gem. You'll be sorry you didn't bid on it.
But, joking aside, you're the connoisseur whose opinion I want. I don't
give a continental about the dealers; they'll fill you up with
anything." Gard growled a brief acceptance. "I'll be glad to see you.
Good-by."

Abruptly he terminated his interviews and conferences, adjourning all
business till the following day. Mentioning an hour when, if necessary,
he might be found in his home, he dismissed his officials, slipped into
his overcoat, secured his hat, turned at the door of his private office,
muttering something about his stick, and, quickly crossing the room,
opened a drawer of his writing table and drew forth a small, snub-nosed
revolver. He hesitated a moment, tossed it back, and squaring his
shoulders strode from the room.