LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

A Small White Hand Darted over His Shoulder

All the Time Her Gaze Was Fixed upon the Two

He Stood for a Moment in the Doorway

Kenyon Touched One End of the Slip to a Flame

[11]

In the Dead of Night

I THE GIRL IN THE HANSOM CAB

“Mysteries, my boy, are always things of the night.”  —A Saying of Garry Webster.

—A Saying of Garry Webster.

Kenyon ate the good little German dinner which the Berlin always served, and looked amusedly out upon Broadway.

Kenyon

“Apparently it’s the same old town,” said he. “A little more light, a few more people; but the same cocksureness, the same air of being the goal of all human effort.”

With a smile, he lay back in his chair and watched the tide ebbing along. It was a November night and the pulse of Broadway beat heavily: the stream of life that flowed through the great artery was as flippant and as garish as a vaudeville. An orchestra was drooning behind some palms in the Berlin; it played one of those Indian things, filled with the throb of tom-toms and unusual combinations of tone.

But Kenyon listened inattentively. He ate the last morsel of his dessert with satisfaction, and drained the last drop of wine with[12] appreciation; then he turned once more and watched the crowds. It was the first time he had been in New York in ten years; yet the glare and effrontery of its big highway was waking the fever of the city in his blood.

[12]

“Will there be anything else, sir?” asked the precise German 

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