CHAPTER VII. ENTER A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN
A reddening zone in the East silhouetted the serrated line of the distant elevated structure, as Shirley walked along the gray street, his thoughts busy with the possibilities of applying his new certainty.
He had reached Sixth Avenue, and was just passing one of the elevated pillars when a black touring car crept up behind him. The clanging bell and the grinding motors of an early surface car drowned the sound of the automobile in his rear. Suddenly the big machine sprang forward at highest speed. A man leaned from the driver's seat, and snatched the grip from his hand.
The motorman, cursing, threw on the emergency brake, in time to barely graze the machine with his fender as it shot across the street before him.
Shirley's view was cut off, until he had run around the street-car—then he beheld the big automobile skidding in a half-circle, as it turned down Fifth Avenue. It was too far away to distinguish the number of the singing license tag.
“Much good may the bricks do them! Perhaps they will help to build the annex necessary up the river, when these gentry go there for a long visit.”
Shirley laughed at the joke on his pursuers, and turned into a little all-night grill for a comforting mutton chop of gargantuan proportions, with an equally huge baked potato. He was a healthy brute, after all his morbid line of activities! Later, at the Club, he submitted to the amenities of the barber, whose fine Italian hand smoothed away, in a skilful massage, the haggard lines of his long vigil. As he left the club house for William Grimsby's residence he looked as fresh and bouyant as though he had enjoyed the conventional eight hours' sleep.
“You are this Montague Shirley?” was the querulous greeting from the old gentleman, when he was admitted to the drawing-room. “You kept me in anguish the entire night, with your silly words. The telephone bell rang at intervals of half an hour until dawn: I may have missed some important business deal by not replying What do you mean? Is this some blackmail game?”
“No, sir. It has to deal with blackmailing, however—but not for my profit.”
“Explain quickly. I am a busy man. My motor is waiting now to take me to my office.”