which contained three pistols and a leather folder holding the permits for them.
He would have kept his sailing yacht in the room, too, had there been space for
it. Space lacking, the yacht was moored in Long Island Sound, not far from
Aldriff's home; but the ship model on the mantel was an exact replica of the
craft in question.
One thing in the room annoyed Aldriff. It was a filing cabinet in the
corner to the left of the door. A very cumbersome, unsightly thing, that
cabinet, but it was necessary in Aldriff's business, so it had to stay.
Nevlin, Aldriff's secretary, had made the bright suggestion of putting it
in the corner behind the door, which was something of a help, but it was too big
for the door to hide.
So Aldriff had decided to buy a screen to cover the filing cabinet, and
Nevlin had located one, a very fine Chinese screen, with gold-leaf decorations
that would go well with the Florentine mirror.
Such, then, was Aldriff's den; in the near corners, trophy case and filing
cabinet; in the far wall, the nook with the chairs and chess table. On the
right, fireplace, mantel with its clock and other ornaments, and the presiding
moose. On the left, mirror, bookshelves and desk, with Mr. Aldriff in the chair.
ARTHUR ALDRIFF was a thickset man, with a roundish face that should have
been jolly, but wasn't. Instead, his features were deep-lined with worry, which
even furrowed the forehead beneath his thin gray hair.
He wasn't even looking at the costly decorations with which he had stocked
his den; nor did he seem at all delighted by the fact that he was soon to
receive the handsome screen that would make the setting perfect.
There were two windows in the room, one at each side of the chess nook.
They were closed and heavily clamped; they had bars on the outside, as a
protection for Aldriff's treasures.
Through those windows came dying rays of sunlight, cut off by the high
hedge that surrounded the grounds. The fading glow cast long shadows of the bars
across Aldriff's desk, and at sight of those parallel streaks, the man winced.
The shadows of other bars were creeping too close for Aldriff's peace of
mind. Prison bars, that wouldn't display themselves only at sunset, but would be
outside his window, day and night, for years to come.
It wasn't a happy picture - the thought of leaving this fine mansion, with
its lavishly furnished den, for a tiny cell in a Federal penitentiary.
Reaching into a desk drawer, Aldriff brought out a metal dispatch box,
unlocked it and brought out a batch of papers. He turned on a desk lamp to
eradicate the streaks that worried him, and began to look through the papers.
At moments, his worry changed to an expression of sudden shrewdness, only
to lapse back again. However, his eyes were taking on a scheming sparkle, when
he heard sudden footsteps at the door.
He looked up, somewhat startled, to see a girl standing in the doorway. She
was an attractive girl - tall, slender, and with a vigor that spoke of outdoor
life. Her face was flushed by the wind; her brown hair had been blown into stray
waifs that she was brushing back from her equally brown eyes.
But she wasn't worried about making herself look prettier. Her expression
revealed a single emotion: determination.
"I'm Joan Kelburn," the girl announced, in a firm contralto. "I'm sorry to
