The Exploits of Elaine | Page 2

season, and sent in my card to her, on a chance of interesting her
and seeing her father, writing on the bottom of the card: "Would like to
interview Mr. Dodge regarding Clutching Hand."
Summoning up what assurance I had, which is sometimes considerable,
I followed the butler down the hall as he bore my card. As he opened
the door of the drawing room I caught a vision of a slip of a girl, in an
evening gown.
Elaine Dodge was both the ingenue and the athlete--the thoroughly
modern type of girl--equally at home with tennis and tango, table talk
and tea. Vivacious eyes that hinted at a stunning amber brown sparkled
beneath masses of the most wonderful auburn hair. Her pearly teeth,
when she smiled, were marvellous. And she smiled often, for life to her
seemed a continuous film of enjoyment.
Near her I recognized from his pictures, Perry Bennett, the rising young
corporation lawyer, a mighty good looking fellow, with an affable,
pleasing way about him, perhaps thirty-five years old or so, but already
prominent and quite friendly with Dodge.
On a table I saw a book, as though Elaine had cast it down when the
lawyer arrived to call on the daughter under pretense of waiting for her
father. Crumpled on the table was the Star. They had read the story.
"Who is it, Jennings?" she asked.
"A reporter, Miss Dodge," answered the butler glancing superciliously
back at me, "and you know how your father dislikes to see anyone here
at the house," he added deferentially to her.

I took in the situation at a glance. Bennett was trying not to look
discourteous, but this was a call on Elaine and it had been interrupted. I
could expect no help from that quarter. Still, I fancied that Elaine was
not averse to trying to pique her visitor and determined at least to try it.
"Miss Dodge," I pleaded, bowing as if I had known them all my life,
"I've been trying to find your father all the evening. It's very
important."
She looked up at me surprised and in doubt whether to laugh or stamp
her pretty little foot in indignation at my stupendous nerve.
She laughed. "You are a very brave young man," she replied with a
roguish look at Bennett's discomfiture over the interruption of the
tete-a-tete.
There was a note of seriousness in it, too, that made me ask quickly,
"Why?"
The smile flitted from her face and in its place came a frank earnest
expression which I later learned to like and respect very much. "My
father has declared he will eat the very next reporter who tries to
interview him here," she answered.
I was about to prolong the waiting time by some jolly about such a
stunning girl not having by any possibility such a cannibal of a parent,
when the rattle of the changing gears of a car outside told of the
approach of a limousine.
The big front door opened and Elaine flung herself in the arms of an
elderly, stern-faced, gray-haired man. "Why, Dad," she cried, "where
have you been? I missed you so much at dinner. I'll be so glad when
this terrible business gets cleared up. Tell--me. What is on your mind?
What is it that worries you now?"
I noticed then that Dodge seemed wrought-up and a bit unnerved, for
he sank rather heavily into a chair, brushed his face with his
handkerchief and breathed heavily. Elaine hovered over him

solicitously, repeating her question.
With a mighty effort he seemed to get himself together. He rose and
turned to Bennett.
"Perry," he exclaimed, "I've got the Clutching Hand!"
The two men stared at each other.
"Yes," continued Dodge, "I've just found out how to trace it, and
tomorrow I am going to set the alarms of the city at rest by exposing--"
Just then Dodge caught sight of me. For the moment I thought perhaps
he was going to fulfill his threat.
"Who the devil--why didn't you tell me a reporter was here, Jennings?"
he sputtered indignantly, pointing toward the door.
Argument, entreaty were of no avail. He stamped crustily into the
library, taking Bennett with him and leaving me with Elaine. Inside I
could hear them talking, and managed to catch enough to piece together
the story. I wanted to stay, but Elaine, smiling at my enthusiasm, shook
her head and held out her hand in one of her frank, straight-arm hand
shakes. There was nothing to do but go.
At least, I reflected, I had the greater part of the story--all except the
one big thing, however,--the name of the criminal. But Dodge would
know him tomorrow!
I hurried back to the Star to write my story in time to catch the last
morning