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GIRL
SYNOPSIS.
At the expense of a soiled hat Herbert
Orme saves from arrest a girl In a black
touring car who has caused a traffic jam
on State street. He buys a new hat and
13 given a five dollar bill with: "Remem
>er person you pay this to,” written on it.
A second time he helps the girl in the
black car and learns that in Tom and
Bessie Wallingham they have mutual
friends, but gets no further hint of her
Identity. In his rooms at the Pere Mar
quette he telephones Bessie Wallingham
and agrees to golf at Arradale on the
morrow. He discovers another inscnp
tion on the marked bill, which, in a futile
attempt to decipher, he copies and places
the copy in a drawer.
CHAPTER 11.
Senor Poritol.
When Orme answered the knock at
the door a singular young man stood
at the threshold. He was short, wiry,
and very dark. His nose was long and
complacently tilted at the end. His
eyes weie small and very black. His
mouth was a wide, uncertain slit. In
his hand he carried a light cane and a
silk hat of the flat-brimmed French
type. And he wore a gray sack suit,
pressed and creased with painful ex
actness
"Comi in, Senor Poritol,” said
Orme, motioning toward a chair.
The little man entered, with short,
rapid steps. He drew from bis pocket
a clean podret handkerchief, which he
unfolded and spread out on the surface
of the table. Upon the handkerchief
he carefully placed his hat and then,
after an ineffectual effort to make it
stand against the table edge, laid his
cane on the floor.
Not until all this ceremony had been
completed did he appear to notice
Orme. But now he turned, widening
his face into a smile and extending his
hand, which Orme took rather dubi
ously—it was supple and moist.
“Oh, this is Mr. Orme, is it not?”
“Yes," said Orme, freeing himself
from the unpleasant handshake.
“Mr. Robert Orme?”
"Yes, that is my name. What can I
do for you?”
For a moment Senor Poritol ap
peared to hover like a timid bird;
then he seated himself on the edge of
a chair, only the tips of his toes touch
ing the floor. His eyes danced
brightly.
“To begin with, Mr. Orme,” he said,
“I am charmed to meet you—very
charmed.” He rolled_jHs “r’s” after
a fashion that need not be reproduced.
“And in the second place,” he contin
ued, “while actually I am a foreigner
In your dear country, I regard myself
as in spirit one of your natives. I
came here when a boy, and was edu
cated at your great University of
Princeton.”
“You are a Portuguese —I infer from
your name,” said Orme.
“Oh, dear, no! Oh, no, no, no!” ex
claimed Senor Poritol, tapping the
floor nervously with his toes. “My
country he freed himself from the
Portuguese yoke many and many a
year ago. I am a South American,
Mr. Orme —one of the poor relations
of your great country.” Again the
widened smile. Then he suddenly be
came grave, and leaned forward, his
hands on his knees. "But this is not
the business of our meeting, Mr.
Orme.”
“No?” inquired Orme.
“No, my dear sir. I have come to
ask of you about the five-dollar bill
which you received in the hat shop
this afternoon.” He peered anxious
ly. “You still have it? You have not
spent it?”
। “A marked bill, was It not?”
“Yes, yes. Where is it, my dear
sir, where is it?”
“Written across the face of it were
the words, ‘Remember person you pay
this to.’ ”
“Oh, yes, yes.”
“And on the back of it —”
“On the back of it!” gasped the lit
tle man. .
“Was a curious cryptogram.”
“Do not torture me!” exclaimed
Senor Poritol. “Have you got it?”
His fingers worked nervously.
“Yes,” said Orme slowly, “I still
have it.”
Senor Poritol hastily took a fresh
•five-dollar bill from his pocket. “See,”
Ihe said, jumping to the floor, “here
•is another just as good a bill. I give
this to you in return for the bill which
(was paid to you this afternoon.” He
Ithrust the new bill toward Orme, and
(waved his other hand rhetorically.
“That, and that alone, is my business
with you, dear sir.”
Orme’s hand went to his pocket.
•The visitor watched the motion eag
erly, and a grimace of disappointment
contracted his features when the hand
came forth, holding a cigar case.
“Have one," Orme urged.
In his anxiety the little man almost
danced. “But, sir," he broke forth, “I
am in desperate hurry. I must meet
a friend. I must catch a train.”
"One moment,” interrupted Orme.
“I can’t very well give up that bill
until I know a little better what it
means. You will have to show me
that you are entitled to it —and” —he
smiled —“meantime you’d better
smoke."
Senor Poritol sighed. "I can as
sure you of my honesty of purpose,
■sir,” he said. “I cannot tell you about
it. I have not the time. Also, it is
not my secret. This bid, sir, is just
as good the other one."
"Very likely," said Orme dryly. He
was wondering whether this was some
new counterieiting dodge. How easily
most persons could be induced to
make the transfer!
A counterfeiter, however, would
hardly work by so picturesque and
noticeable a method, unless he were
carefully disguised—hardly even then.
Was Senor Poritol disguised? Orme
looked at him more closely. No, he
could see where the roots of the
coarse black hair joined the scalp.
And there was not the least evidence
of make-up on the face. Nevertheless,
Orme did not feel warranted in giving
up the marked bill without a defihite
explanation. The little man was a
comic figure, but his bizarre exterior
might conceal a dangerous plot. He
might be a thief, an anarchist, any
thing.
“Please, my dear sir,, please do not
add to my already very great anxi
ety,” pleaded the visitor.
Orme spoke more decisively. “You
are a stranger, Senor Poritol. I don’t
know what all this mystery conceals,
but I can't give out that bill unless I
know more about it —and I won’t,” he
added, as he saw Senor Poritol open
his mouth for further pleading.
“Very well,” sighed the little man.
He hesitated for an instant, then add
ed: “I do not blame you for insisting
and I suppose I must say to you every
thing that you demand. No, I do not
smoke the cigar, please. But if you
do not object—” He produced a
square of cigarette paper and some
tobacco from a silver-mounted pouch,
and deftly rolled a cigarette with one
hand, accepting a match from Orme
with the other. Closing his eyes, he
inhaled the smoke deeply, breathing it
out through his nostrils.
“Well—” he hesitated, his eyes
roving about the room as if in search
of something—“ Well, I will explain to
you why I want the bill.”
Orme lighted a fresh cigar ar.d set
tled himself to hear the story. Se
nor Poritol drew a second handker
chief from his pocket and mopped his
damp brow’.
“You must know’, my very dear sir,”
he began, “that I come from a country
wuich is very rich in the resources of
nature. In the unsettled interior are
very great mineral deposits which are
little known, and since the day when
the great Vega made the first explora
tion there has been the belief that the
Urinaba mountains hide a great
w’ealth in gold. Many men for three
hundred years have risked their most
precious lives to go look for it. But
they have not found it. No, my dear
sir, they have not found it until —But
have patience, and you shall hear
everything.
“A few days ago a countryman of
mine sent w’ord that he was about to
die. He asked that I, his early friend,
should come to him immediately and
receive news of utmost importance.
He was lying sick in the hotel of a
small city in Wisconsin. He was a
tobacco agent and he had been at
tacked by death while he w’as on a
business trip.
“Filled with the heartbroken hope
to see him once more before he died,
I w’ent even as I was,' to a train and
made all haste to his bedside.”
“What was his name?” asked Orme.
“Lopez,” replied Senor Poritol
promptly; and Orme knew that the
answ’er might, as well have been
Smith. But the little man returned
quickly to his story.
“My friend had no strength left. He
was, oh, so weak that I wept to see him.
But he sent the doctor and the priest
out of the room, and then —and then
he whispered in my ear a secret. He
had discovered rich gold in the Uri
naba country. He had been trying to
earn money to go back and dig up the
gold. But, alas! now he was dying,
and he wished to give the secret to
me, his old friend.
“Tears streamed on my cheek.” Se
nor Porltol's eyes filled, seemingly at
the remembrance. “But I took out my
fountain pen to write down the direc
tions he wished to give. See —this was
the pen.” He produced a gold-mount
ed tube from his waistcoat.
"I searched my pockets for a piece
of paper. None could I discover.
There was no time to be lost, for my
friend was growing weaker, oh, very
fast. In desperation I took a five-dol
lar bill, and wrote upon it the direc
tions he gave me for finding the gold.
Even as I finished it, dear Lopez
breathed his last breath.”
Orme puffed at his cigar. "So the
bnl carries directions for finding a
rich deposit in the Urinaba moun
tains?”
“Yes, my dear sir. But you would
not rob me of it. You could not un
derstand the directions.”
"Oh, no.” Orme laughed. “I have
r > interest in South American gold
mines.”
"Then accept this fresh bill," im
plored Senor Poritol, “and give me
back the one I yearn for."
Orme hesitated. "A moment more,”
he said. "Tell me, how did you lose
possession of the marked bill?”
The South American writhed in his
ci air and leaned forward eagerly.
“That is the most distressing part of
all,’’ he- exclaimed. “1 had left Chi
cago at a time when my presence in
this gr^at city was very important in
deed. Nothing but the call from a dy
ing friend would have induced me to
Ir- ■ 1
I A 7IL I nil ■
t (005
■ -
The Struggle Lasted Only for a Moment.
go away. My whole future in this
country depended upon my returning
in time to complete certain business.
“So, after dear Lopez was dead, I
rushed to the local railroad station.
A train was coming in. I searched my
pocket for my money to buy my tick
et. All I could find was the five-dollar
bill!
"It was necessary to return to Chi
cago; yet I could not lose the bill. A
happy thought struck me. I wrote
upon the face of it the words you have
seen, and paid it to the ticket agent.
I called his attention to the writing
and implored him to save the bill if
he could until I returned, and if not,
to be sure to remember the person he
gave it to.”
Orme laughed.
“It does seem funny,” said Senor
Poritol, rolling another cigarette, “but
you cannot imagine my most frantic
desperation. I returned to Chicago and
transacted my business. Then I
hastened back to the Wisconsin city.
Vv oe is me! The ticket agent had paid
the bill to a Chicago citizen. I se
cured the name of this man and finally
found him at his office on La Salle
street. Alas! he, too, had spent the
bill, but I tracked it from person to
person, until now, my dear sir, I have I
found it? So —” he paused and looked
eloquently at Orme.
“Do you know a man named
Evans?” Orme asked.
Senor Poritol looked at him in be
wilderment.
“S. R. Evans,” insisted Orme. •
“Why, no, dear sir—l think not.
But what has that to do—?”
Orme pushed a sheet of paper across
the table. “Oblige me, Senor Poritol.
Senor Poritol was apparently re
luctant. However, under the compul
sion of Orme’s eye, he finally took out
his fountain pen and wrote the name
in flowing script. Qe then pushed the
paper back toward Orme, with an in
quiring- look.
“No, that isn’t what I mean,” ex
claimed Orme. “Print it. Print it in
capital letters.”
Senor Poritol slowly printed out
the name.
Orme took the paper, laying it be
fore him. He then produced the
coveted bill from his pocketbook.
Senor Poritol uttered a little cry of
delight and stretched forth an eager
hand, but Orme, who was busily com
paring the letters on the paper with
the letters on the bill, waved him
back.
After a few moments Orme looked
up. “Senor Poritol,” he said, “why
didn't you write the secret on a time
table, or on your ticket, before you
gave the bill to the agent?”
Senor Poritol was flustered. "Why,”
he said uncertainly, “I did not think
of that. How can we explain the mis
takes we make iff moments of great
nervousness?”
“True,” said Orme. "But one more
point. You did not yourself write
your friend’s secret on the bill. The
letters which you have just printed
are differently made.”
Senor Poritol said nothing. He
was breathing hard.
"On the other hand,” continued
Orme, turning the bill over and eyeing
the inscription on its face, “your mis
take in first writing the name instead
of printing it shows me that you did
write the words on the face of the
bill.” He returned the bill to his
pocketbook. "I can’t give you the
bill,” he said. “Your story doesn’t
hold together.”
With a queer little scream the
South American bounded from his
chair and flung himself at Orme. He
struck no blow, but clawed desperate
ly at Orme’s pocket. The struggle
lasted only for a moment. Orme,
seizing the little man by the collar,
dragged him, wriggling, to the door.
“Now get out,” said Orme. “If I
find you hanging around I’ll have you
locked up.”
Senor Poritol whispered: "It is mv
secret. Why should I tell you the
truth about it? You have no right to
know.”
■Orme retained his hold. “I don’t
like your looks, my friend,” he said.
“There may have been reason why
you should lie to me, but you will
have to make things clear.” He con
sidered. After all, he njust make al
lowance; so he said: “Come back to
morrow with evidence that you are
entitled to the bill, and you shall have
it.” He released Senor Poritol.
The little man had recovered his
composure. He went back to the ta
ble and took up his hat and cane, re
folding the handkerchief and slipping
it into his pocket. Once more he was
the Latin fop. ’le approached Orme,
and his manner was deprecatory.
“My most abject apologies for at
tacking you, sir. I was beside myself.
But if you will only permit me I will
bring up my friend, who is waiting
below. He will, as you say, vouch for
me.”
“Who is he?”
“A very, very distinguished man.”
Orme pondered. The adventure was
opening up, and he felt inclined to see
it through. Bring him,” he said
shortly.
When Senor Poritol had disap
peared Orme telephoned to the clerk.
“Send me up a porter,” he ordered,
“and have him stand just outside my
door, with orders to enter if he hears
any disturbance.” He waited at the
door till the porter appeared, thelj
told him to remain in a certain place
until he was needed, or until the
visitors left.
Senor Poritol remained downstairs
for several minutes. Evidently he
was explaining the situation to his
friend. But after a time Orme heard
the clang of the elevator door, and in
response to the knock that quickly
followed, he opened his own door. At
the side of his former visitor stood a
dapper foreigner. He wore a long
frock coat and carried a glossy hat,
and his eyes were framed by large
gold spectacles.-
“This is the Senor Alcatrante,”
explained Senor Poritol.
The newcomer bowed with suave
dignity.
“Senor Alcatrante? The name is
familiar,” said Orme, smiling.
Poritol assumed an air. “He Is the
minister from my country to these
United States.”
Orme understood. This was the
wary South American diplomat whose
name had lately been so prominent
in the Washington dispatches. What
was he doing in Chicago?
“I am glad to meet you,” said Orme.
Alcatrante smiled, displaying a
prominent row of uneven teeth.
“My young friend, Poritol,” he be
gan, “tells me that you have in your
possession the record of a secret be
longing to me. What that secret is,
is immaterial to you and me, I take
it. He is an honorable young man—
excitable, perhaps, but well-meaning.
I would suggest that you give him the
five-dollar bill he desires, accepting
from him another in exchange. Or,
if you still doubt him, permit me to
offer you a bill from my own pocket.”
He drew out a fat wallet.
The situation appeared to be sim
plified. And yet Orme was dubious.
There was mischief in the bill; so
much he felt sure of._ Alcatrante’s
reputation was that of a fox, and as
for Poritol. he -was, to say the least, a
person of uncertain qualities. Orme
could not but admire the subtle man
ner in which Alcatrante sought deli
cately to limit his doubts to the mere
possibility that Poritol was trying to
pass spurious money. He decided not
to settle the question at this moment.
“This seems to be rather a mixed
up affair, Senor Alcatrante,” he said.
"There is much more in it than ap
pears. Call on me tomorrow morn
ing and you shall have my decision."
VY Y V
■BANNIHERMERW
RAY WALTER-P
COPYarOHT 1909 DODD,MBAD $ COMPANY"
Alcatrante and Poritol looked at
each other. The minister spoke:
"Will you engage not to give the
bill to anyone else in the interval?”
“I will promise that,” said Orme.
"It is only fair. Yes, I will keep the
bill until tomorrow morning.”
“One other suggestion,” continued
Alcatrante. "You may not be willing
to give up the bill, but is there any
reason why you should refuse to let
Senor Poritol copy the writing that
is on it?”
“Only my determination to think
the whole matter over before I do
anything at all,” Orme replied.
"But the bill came into your hands
by chance,” insisted the minister.
“The information means nothing to
you, though obviously it means a
great deal to my young friend, here.
May I ask what right you have to
deny this request?”
"What right,” Orme’s eyes nar
rowed. "My right is that' I have the
bill and the information, and I intend
to understand the situation better be
fore I give the information to anyone
else.”
“But you recognized Senor Pori
tol’s handwriting on the bill,” ex
claimed the minister.
“On the face of it, yes. He did not
write the abbreviations on the back.’’
“Abbreviations!” exclaimed Poritol.
“Please let the matter rest till
morning,” said Orme stubbornly. “I
have told you just w'hat I would do.”
Poritol opened his mouth to speak,
but Alcatrante silenced him with a
frown. “Your word is sufficient, Mr.
Orme,” "he said. “We will call tomor
row morning. Is ten o’clock too
early?” "
“Not at all,” said Orme. “Doubt
less I shall be able to satisfy you. I
merely wish to think it over.”
With a formal bow, Alcatrante
turned to the door and departed,
Poritol following.
Orme strolled back to his window
and stood idly watching the lights of
the vessels on the lake. But his mind
was not on the unfolded view before
him. He was puzzling over this mys
tery in which he had so suddenly be
come a factor. Unquestionably the
five-dollar bill held the key to some
serious problem.
Surely Alcatrante had not come
merely as the friend of Poritol, for
the difference in the station of the
two South Americans was marked.
Poritol was a cheap character —use-
ful, no doubt, in certain kinds of work,
but vulgar and unconvincing
Alcatrante, on the other hand, was
a name to make statesmen knit their
brows. A smooth trouble-maker, he
had set Europe by the ears in the
matter of unsettled South American
loans, dexterously appealing to the
much-overworked Monroe doctrine
JO-'
^^7
Bending Over Him Was a Short,
Stccky Figure.
every time his country was threatened
by a French or German or British
blockade. But his mind w’as of no
small caliber. He could hold his own
not only at his own game of interna
tional chess, but in the cultured dis
cussion of polite topics. Orme knew
of him as a clever after-dinner speak
er, a man who could, when he so de
sired, please greatly by his personal
charm.
No, Alcatrante was no friend of
Poritol’s; nor was it likely that, as
protector of the interests of his coun
trymen, he would go so far as to ac
company them on their errands un
less much was at stake. Perhaps
Poritol was Alcatrante’s tool and had
bungled some important commission.
It occurred to Orme that the secret of
the bill might be connected with the
negotiation of a big business conces
sion in Alcatrante’s country. “S. R.
Evans” might be trying to get control
of rubber forests or mines—in the
Urinaba mountains, perhaps, after all.
In any event, he felt positive that
the secret of the bill did not right
fully belong to Poritol. If the bill
had been in his possession, he should
have been able to copy the abbrevia
ted message. Indeed, the lies that he
told were all against the notion of
placing any confidence in him. The
two South Americans were altogether
too eager.
Orme decided to go for a walk. He
could think better in the open air. He
took up his hat and cane and descend
ed the elevator.
In the office the clerk stopped him.
“A man called to see you a few
minutes ago, Mr. Orme. When I told
him that you were engaged with two
visitors he went away.”
“Did he leave his name?” asked
Orme.
“No, sir. He was'a Japanese.”
Orme nodded and went on out to
the street. What could a Japanese
want of him?
CHAPTER 111.
The Shadows.
Orme walked north along the Lake
Shore drive. As best he could, he
pieced together the curious adven
tures of the day. The mystery of the
five-dollar bill and the extreme anxi
ety of Poritol seemed to be compli
cated by the appearance of the Japa
nese at the Pere Marquette. Orme
sought the simplest explanation. He
knew that mysterious happenings fre
quently become clear when one defi
nitely tries to fit them into the natural
routine of every-day life. The Jap
anese, he mused, was probably some
valet out of a job. But how could he
have learned Orme’s name. Possibly
he had not known it; the clerk might
have given it to him. The Incident
hardly seemed worth second thought,
but he found himself persistently turn
ing to one surmise after another con
cerning the Japanese. For Orme was
convinced that he stood on the edge of
a significant situation.
Suddenly he took notice of a figure
a short distance ahead of him. This
man—apparently very short and
stocky—was also going northward,
but he was moving along in an erratic
manner. At one moment he would
hupry his steps, at the next he would
almost stop.' Evidently he was regu
lating his pace with a purpose.
Orme let his eyes travel still farther
ahead. He observed two men actively
conversing. From time to time their
discussion became so animated that
they halted for a moment and faced
each other, gesticulating rapidly.
Every time they halted, the single fig
ure nearer to Orme slowed down his
own pace.
The oblivious couple came under a
street lamp and again turned toward
each other. Their profiles were dis
tinct. Orme had already suspected
their identity, for both had high hats
and carried canes, and one of them
was in a sack suit, while the other
wore a frock coat. And now the pro
files verified the surmise. There was
no mistaking the long, tip-tilted nose
of the shorter man and the glinting
spectacles of the other. The two were
Poritol and Alcatrante.
But who was the man trailing them?
A_friendly guard? Or a menacing en
emy? Orme decided to shadow the
shadow.
At a corner not far from the en
trance to Lincoln park Poritol and Al
catrante became so apparently excited
that they stood, chattering volubly for
several minutes. The shadow stopped
altogether. He folded his arms and
looked out over the lake like any cas
ual wanderer, but now and then he
turned his head toward the others. He
seemed to be indifferent to what they
were saying, though he was near
enough to them to catch fragments of
their conversation, if he so desired.
The South Americans were probably
talking in that dialect of Portuguese
which their nation has developed.
, Meantime Orme also stopped, taking
tip a position like that of the shadow.
He saw Poritol, with outstretched,
questioning hands, his eyes fixed on
the face of Alcatrante, who seemed to
be delivering his orders. The flashing
reflections of light from the minister’s
spectacles indicated his authoritative
nods of the head.
After a time Alcatrante evidently
completed his instructions. He re
moved his hat and bowed formally.
Little Poritol echoed the salute and,
turning, shot off down a side street
with ridiculously rapid movements of
nis short legs.
When the South Americans separa
ted, the shadow quickly came to life.
He hesitated for an instant, as if in
doubt which of the two to follow, then
decided in favor of Alcatrante, who
was moving in leisurely fashion toward
the park entrance, his head bowed in
thought. Orme found himself wonder
ing what snaky plots were winding
through that dark mind.
The procession of three silently en
tered the park. The shadow was about
a hundred feet behind Alcatrante.
Orme kept the same distance between
himself and the shadow.
The minister was in no hurry. In
different to his surroundings he made
his way, with no apparent Interest in
the paths he took. At last he turned
into a dark stretch and for the mo
ment was lost to sight in the night.
Suddenly the shadow darted for
ward. Orme hurried his own pace,
and in a moment he heard the sounds
of a short, sharp struggle—a scuffling
of feet in the gravel, a heavy fall.
There was no outcry.
Orme broke into a run. At a point
where the path was darkest he
checked himself for an Instant. A lit
tle distance ahead a man lay flat on
the ground, and bending over him was
a short, stocky figure.
<TO BE CONTINUED*
