The Box with Broken Seals | Page 4

Thew eat his words."
The Chief smiled. The taxicab had turned in through the entrance gates
of the great station.
"I have heard men as well-known in their profession as you, Hobson,
and you too, Mr. Crawshay, speak like that about Jocelyn Thew, but
when the game was played out they seem to have lost the odd trick.
Either the fellow isn't a criminal at all but loves to haunt shady places
and pose as one, or he is just the cleverest of all the crooks who ever
worked the States. Some of my best men have thought that they had a
case against him and have come to grief."
"They've never caught him with the goods, because they've never been
the right way about it," Hobson declared confidently.
"And you think you are going to break his record?" Downs asked, with
a doubtful smile. "If you find him on the City of Boston, you know, the
stuff you're after won't be in his pocketbook or in the lining of his
steamer trunk."
The three men were hurrying out to the platform now, where the great
train, a blaze of light and luxury, was standing upon the track. Captain
Downs made his way to where the Pullman conductor was standing and
engaged him in a brief but earnest conversation. A car porter was
summoned, and in a few moments Crawshay and Hobson found
themselves standing on the steps of one of the cars. They leaned over to

make their adieux to Chief Downs. Crawshay added a few words to his
farewell.
"I quite appreciate all your remarks about Jocelyn Thew," he said. "One
is liable to be disappointed, of course, but I still feel that if we can
catch that steamer it might be an exceedingly interesting voyage."
"If you're on time you may do it," was the brief reply. "All the same--"
The gong had sounded and the train was gliding slowly out of the
station. Crawshay leaned over the iron gate of the car.
"Go on, please," he begged. "Don't mind my feelings."
Chief Downs waved his hand.
"I'm afraid," he confessed, "that my money would be on Jocelyn
Thew."
CHAPTER II
At just about the hour when Crawshay and Hobson were receiving the
visit of Chief Downs in the Chicago hotel an English butler accepted
with due respect the card of a very distinguished-looking and
exceedingly well-turned-out caller at the big, brownstone Beverley
house in Riverside Drive, New York.
"Miss Beverley is just back from the hospital, sir," the former
announced. "If you will come this way, I will see that your card is sent
to her at once."
The caller--Mr. Jocelyn Thew was the name upon the card--followed
the servant across the white stone circular hall, with its banked-up
profusion of hothouse flowers and its air of elegant emptiness, into a
somewhat austere but very dignified apartment, the walls of which
were lined to the ceiling with books.
"I will let Miss Beverley have your card at once, sir," the man promised

him again, "if you will be so kind as to take a seat for a few moments."
The visitor, left to himself, stood upon the hearthrug with his hands
behind his back, waiting for news of the young lady whom he had
come to visit. At first sight he certainly was a most
prepossessing-looking person. His face, if a little hard, was
distinguished by a strength which for the size of his features was
somewhat surprising. His chin was like a piece of iron, and although
his mouth had more sensitive and softer lines, his dark-blue eyes and
jet-black eyebrows completed a general impression of vigour and
forcefulness. His figure was a little thin but lithe, and his movements
showed all the suppleness of a man who has continued the pursuit of
athletics into early middle-life. His hair, only slightly streaked with
grey, was thick and plentiful. His clothes were carefully chosen and
well tailored. He had the air of a man used to mixing with the best
people, to eating and drinking the best, to living in the best fashion,
recognising nothing less as his due in life. Yet as he stood there waiting
for his visitor, listening intently for the sound of her footsteps outside,
he permitted himself a moment of retrospection, and there was a gleam
of very different things in his face, a touch almost of the savage in the
clenched teeth and sudden tightening of the lips. One might have
gathered that this man was living through a period of strain.
The entrance of the young lady of the house, after a delay of about ten
minutes, was noiseless and unannounced. Her visitor, however, was
prepared for it. She came towards him with an air of pleasant enquiry in
her very