The Mystery of the Steel Disc | Page 6

is slow, isn't it? Why, I had forgot that. It was last Monday morning,
a week ago. I remember I was a little late," replied Rhodes.
"Has any one swept in here since?"
Rand asked this with his eyes fixed on a dark corner at the heel of the
right door.

"No, not in the vault."
Rand stooped and put his hand into the corner. For a moment I thought
he was picking up something, but he straightened up and brushed his
fingers one against the other as if ridding them of dust, so I knew his
hands were empty.
In a moment he signified he was through and we left the place, and at
the corner parted with the man from Mahler's. We walked on toward
my office.
"What do you make of that?" said Rand suddenly, and I saw that he
was holding something toward me between his thumb and forefinger, I
was sure he had put neither hand in his pockets since we had left the
bank.
The small, bright object was merely a plain, smooth-worn bit of steel,
thinner than a penny, and not as broad, with a small round hole in the
centre. Just a tiny disc of steel.
"Did you pick that up in the vault?" I asked.
"Yes, out of that dark corner by the door."
"Why, how is that? I saw your hands as you rose and they were empty."
"Oh, no, you were mistaken, just as that man from Mahler's was. I
merely palmed the disc, that is all, so he could not see it. There is no
reason why he should be on the inside of this case. He thinks too much
of his own cleverness as it is."
"Well, what is this thing?" I said, slightly irritated at having been so
easily tricked.
"I wish I could answer that question as easily as you ask it," replied
Rand, and relapsed into silence.
As we entered the building in which I had my office, there emerged
from an elevator car that had just descended a girl, whose appearance

caught my attention. She was attired in a dark street suit that set her
small, trim figure to advantage, but by contrast emphasized the pallor
of her face. Her hair was of that abundant flaxen quality so often seen
in Germans and Scandinavians, and her eyes were large and dark blue.
They were very troubled and it was plain she had been crying. There
was something bravely piteous in every line of her face. She paused a
moment as if half expecting some one and hurried out as we entered the
next up-bound car.
When I went into the office, Betts came in with a slip of paper in his
hand. After I had introduced him to Rand, he said:
"Duncan, for shame not to be in when nice young ladies call on you.
The pretty daughter of your old real estate client, Anderson, was just
here. She has received a letter from the young fellow who took those
bonds in which he says he wishes her to forget him. She refuses to
believe he is guilty, and has had a scene with her father, who must have
told her that he has retained you, for she came down here demanding
that you take her to see the young chap, wherever he is locked up. Has
he been arrested yet?"
"No," I said, "he is over in the bank."
"I think he will be there for some time yet," observed Rand, looking out
the window.
"Well, she will be back in half an hour," said Betts, laying down the
strip of paper on my desk. "She did not have a card and wrote her name.
Excuse me, Mr. Rand, I am not through with my correspondence yet,
and it will soon be three o'clock."
As Betts went out Rand rose and looked at the strip with the name
written in a tall, delicate hand, "Miss Marie Neilson Anderson."
In a short time Miss Anderson came into the outer office and I brought
her in and closed the door. With trembling lips and tears constantly
ready to fall, she repeated what she had already told Betts and
demanded that I arrange an interview with Rhodes at once.

I reassured her to the best of my ability. Rand sat quiet and said nothing.
I thought he might at least have repeated to her what he had just said to
Betts, though I could not exactly make out what were his grounds for
the statement. Instead, just before she was leaving, much comforted and
calmer, he said:
"Excuse me, Miss Anderson, when did you last see Mr. Rhodes?"
"Oh, I have had a letter from him nearly every day, but I have not
talked with him since Sunday