The Gloved Hand | Page 2

there till Monday. That will give you five nights'
sleep and four days' rest. Don't you think you deserve it?"
"Yes," I agreed with conviction, "I do;" and I cast my mind rapidly
over the affairs of the office. With the Minturn case ended, there was
really no reason why I should not take a few days off.
"You'll come, then?" said Godfrey, who had been following my
thoughts. "Don't be afraid," he added, seeing that I still hesitated. "You
won't find it dull."
I looked at him, for he was smiling slightly and his eyes were very
bright.
"Won't I?"
"No," he said, "for I've discovered certain phenomena in the
neighbourhood which I think will interest you."
When Godfrey spoke in that tone, he could mean only one thing, and
my last vestige of hesitation vanished.

"All right," I said; "I'll come."
"Good. I'll call for you at the Marathon about ten-thirty. That's the
earliest I can get away," and in another moment he was gone.
So was my fatigue, and I turned with a zest to my letters and to the
arrangements necessary for a three days' absence. Then I went up to my
rooms, put a few things into a suit-case, got into fresh clothes, mounted
to the Astor roof-garden for dinner, and a little after ten was back again
at the Marathon. I had Higgins bring my luggage down, and sat down
in the entrance-porch to wait for Godfrey.
Just across the street gleamed the lights of the police-station where he
and I had had more than one adventure. For Godfrey was the principal
police reporter of the Record; it was to him that journal owed those
brilliant and glowing columns in which the latest mystery was
described and dissected in a way which was a joy alike to the intellect
and to the artistic instinct. For the editorial policy of the Record, for its
attitude toward politics, Wall Street, the trusts, "society," I had only
aversion and disgust; but whenever the town was shaken with a great
criminal mystery, I never missed an issue.
Godfrey and I had been thrown together first in the Holladay case, and
that was the beginning of a friendship which had strengthened with the
years. Then came his brilliant work in solving the Marathon mystery, in
which I had also become involved. I had appealed to him for help in
connection with that affair at Elizabeth; and he had cleared up the
remarkable circumstances surrounding the death of my friend, Philip
Vantine, in the affair of the Boule cabinet. So I had come to turn to him
instinctively whenever I found myself confronting one of those
intricate problems which every lawyer has sometimes to untangle.
Reciprocally, Godfrey sometimes sought my assistance; but, of course,
it was only with a very few of his cases that I had any personal
connection. The others I had to be content to follow, as the general
public did, in the columns of the Record, certain that it would be the
first to reach the goal. Godfrey had a peculiar advantage over the other
police reporters in that he had himself, years before, been a member of

the detective force, and had very carefully fostered and extended the
friendships made at that time. He was looked on rather as an insider,
and he was always scrupulously careful to give the members of the
force every bit of credit they deserved--sometimes considerably more
than they deserved.
In consequence, he had the entree at times when other reporters were
rigorously barred.
It was nearly eleven o'clock before Godfrey arrived that evening, but I
was neither surprised nor impatient. I knew how many and unexpected
were the demands upon his time; and I always found a lively interest in
watching the comings and goings at the station across the way--where,
alas, the entrances far exceeded the exits! But finally, a car swung in
from the Avenue at a speed that drew my eyes, and I saw that Godfrey
was driving it.
"Jump in," he said, pushing out his clutch and pausing at the curb; and
as I grabbed my suit-case and sprang to the seat beside him, he let the
clutch in again and we were off. "No time to lose," he added, as he
changed into high, and turned up Seventh Avenue.
At the park, he turned westward to the Circle, and then northward again
out Amsterdam Avenue. There was little traffic, and we were soon
skimming along at a speed which made me watch the cross-streets
fearfully. In a few minutes we were across the Harlem and running
northward along the uninteresting streets beyond. At this moment, it
occurred to me that Godfrey was behaving singularly as though he were
hastening to keep an appointment; but I judged