Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 36, No. 4, October 20, 1928

Flash would succeed in thoroughly establishing himself before the general public in the character of a badly abused and wholly innocent young man. Before the police as a reformed crook — he hoped. Then would occur a series of really big jobs in different parts of the country, all of them planned and directed by Flash, but in which he would never participate in person. His tight little gang would do the actual work. Flash would remain quietly at Willow Bend — and see to it that he always had a perfect alibi.

Willow Bend would make an admirable retreat, accessible by motor car and by the river. Its size would enable him to keep some of his gang near him in the guise of servants. Uncle Cato’s seeming respectability, and his known wealth, would make an admirable cloak for Flash.

I got that far, then asked myself if it sounded reasonable. My final opinion was that it did. So I went on with more sureness.

Flash met up with something unforeseen. Bailey fell hard for Him and for Uncle Cato — and Bailey had millions. Also one daughter, the sole heir. Daughter also falls, or seems to fall, for Flash. And he quickly perceives the big possibility. Why not marry the girl and get old Bailey’s millions? What a stake! And it could be done while operating his other scheme, as well.

Flash made up his mind to do just that — and therein he made a fatal error. At least, it seemed so to me, now that I knew about this scorned woman business. The woman whom he had left behind somewhere, promising to bring her on later and marry her, had stepped into the picture. And when the woman steps in, things happen — not at all according to schedule. Flash should have known better.

Then a bit of light came in regard to his hiring a pair of sleuths to watch him during the week of the house party. It would seem that the guests alone would be sufficient alibi for Flash, but, as he figured it, not so. The testimony of two reputable private detectives, one watching him at night and the other having an eye on him during the day, would make the alibi rock-ribbed, and no mistake.

“That three-fingered bird was all in Flash’s imagination,” I grinned at this point. “But it was a reasonable excuse for having himself guarded closely.”

Then I sat up and took notice. Flash wanted a mighty good alibi during that week, hence it followed he meant to pull something during that time. No mistake about it.

Could I make anything of that? I thought I could. The big job, whatever it might be, had evidently not yet occurred, since no report of anything worthy of the talents of Flash Santelle had been heard. It followed, then, that the job would be done before the week was about and the house party broken up.

And there, if ever, would be my chance to hook Flash good and proper.

What about the woman, Ayra Banning? She had failed to get in touch with Flash the night before, or to get a good chance to bump him off, as the intention might have been. She had requested me to hold the letter one more night, and that argued that she would make a try for Flash again the coming evening. But would she, after I had tipped her off that I had identified her as the woman whom I saw in the grounds at Willow Bend? I hoped not, but believed she would.

What was that crack I had made to Jim Steel? Oh, yes. I recalled it:

When Fate wants a man, it sends a woman after him — and the woman gets him. Was Fate sending the woman?

Only Fate knew the answer to that — and Fate wasn’t doing any talking.

But of one thing I was certain, if Flash Santelle pulled anything that week, Fate and the woman would have to hurry if they beat me to him.

I pressed a button on my desk and summoned every available man the Kaw Valley had on its roster.

Chapter XVIII Ominous Quiet

Flash Santelle had hired two men to watch him, but I figured two would be far too few for the job. It would require at least half a dozen. Two to watch him, and the others to watch the rest of the Santelle household. I laid my plans accordingly.

When I reached Willow Bend in the afternoon, I was met at the dock by a grinning Jim Steel.

“This Marthe girl is all in tears,” he remarked. “Wants her Tommy, I take it — and Tommy simply ain’t.”

“Huh? I don’t get that.”

“Tommy took himself off, bag and baggage, this morning,” Jim went on. “When the bunch got together for lunch, he didn’t show. At tea he still kept out of the picture. Then she began to get anxious.

“At about that time I delivered a note which Tommy had intrusted to me, with instructions to hold it until the girl began asking about him. When she read the note, her face went sort of white, tears sprung into her eyes, and she registered deep concern. Been registering it ever since.”

“Well, I’m damned!” I exclaimed feelingly. “Last night she was all off of Tommy, and now she’s wanting him! Can you beat that, Jim?”