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Chapter fifteen, The Man with ThreeWives. One of the first things to
strike the eye of the visitor whoenters the library den of William J.
Quinn, known to his friends andformer associates in the United States he could
service as bill, is a framewhich stands upon the mantel and contains the
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photographs of three exceptionally pretty women.Anyone who doesn't know that this room is
consecrated to relics of the exploits ofthe various governmental detective services might be pardoned
for supposing that the three pictures inthe single frame are photographs of relatives.
Only closer inspection will reveal the factthat beneath them appears a transcript from several
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pages of a certain book of records, the original of which is kept at
the New York City Hall. Thesepages state that, as we let Quinn
tell the story just as he toldit one cold November night, while the
wind was whistling outside, and thecheery warmth of the fire made things extremely
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snug within, secret servicemen, saidQuinn divide all of their cases into two
classes, those which call for quickaction and plenty of it, and those
which demand a great deal of thoughtand only an hour or so of actual
physical work. Your typical operative Allison, who was responsible for solving the poison
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pen puzzle, for example, orHal Preston, who penetrated the mystery surrounding
the murder of Montgomery. Marshal isessentially a man of action. He likes
to tackle a job and get itover with. It doesn't make any difference
if he has to round up ahalf dozen counterfeiters at the point of a
single revolver, as Tommy Callahan oncedid, or break up a gang of
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train robbers who have sworn never tobe taken alive. As long as he
has plenty of thrills and excitement,as long as he is able to get
some joy out of life. Hedoesn't give a hang for the risk.
That's his business, and he lovesit. But it's the long drawn out
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cases which he has to ponder overand consider from a score of angles,
that, in the vernacular of Vaudeville, capture his angora. Give him an
assignment where he can trail his manfor a day or two, get the
lay of the land, and thendrop on the bunch like a ton of
brick, and everything's fine. Givehim one of the other kind, and
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well, he's just about as happyas Guy Randall was when they turned him
loose with instructions to get something onCarl Cheney. Remember during the early days
of the war, when the paperswere full of stories from New York,
Filladelphia, Boston, Milwaukee, andpoints west about gatherings of pro German sympathizers
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who were determined to aid the fatherland. Theoretically, we were neutral at that
time, and these people had allthe scope they wanted. They did not
confine themselves to talk, however,but laid several plans which were destined to
annoy the government and to keep severalhundred operatives busy defeating them, for they
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were aimed directly at our policy ofneutrality. As a campaign fund to assure
the success of these operations, theGerman sympathizers raised not less than sixteen million
dollars, a sum which naturally excitedthe cupidity not only of certain individuals within
their own ranks, but also ofpersons on the outside, men who were
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accustomed to live by their wits,and who saw in this gigantic collection the
opportunity of a lifetime. When youconsider that you can hire a New York
gangster to commit murder for a coupleof hundred dollars, and the union scale
has been known to be even lower. It's no wonder that the mere mention
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of sixteen million dollars caused many acrook of international reputation to figure how he
could divert at least a part ofthis to his own bank account. That's
the way, as it afterward turnedout that Carl Cheney looked at it.
Cheney had rubbed elbows with the policeon several occasions prior to nineteen fourteen.
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It was suspected that he had beenmixed up in a number of exceptionally clever
smuggling schemes, and that he hadhad a finger in one or two operations
which came perilously close to blackmail,but no one had ever been able to
get anything on him. He wasthe original Finnegan in Again, Gone Again.
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By the time the plan came toa successful conclusion, all that remained
of Count Carl's connection with it wasa vague and distinctly nebulous shadow. And
you simply can't arrest shadows, nomatter how hard you try. The New
York police were the first to tipWashington off to the fact that Cheney,
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who had dropped his aristocratic alias forthe time being, was back in this
country and had been seen in thecompany of a number of prominent members of
a certain German American club, whichwasn't in any too good repute with the
Department of Justice by reason of theefforts of some of its members to destroy
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the neutral stand of the nation.Have no indications of what Cheney is doing,
the report admitted, but it willbe well to trail him. Apparently
he has some connection officially or unofficiallywith Berlin. Advise what action you wish
to take. Whereupon the Chief wiredback operative assigned to Chainey case leaves tonight.
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Meanwhile, please watch. It wasn'tuntil after the wire had been sent
that Guy Randall was summoned to theinner sanctum of the Secret Service and informed
that he had been elected to trailthe elusive suspect and find out what he
was up to. So far asour record show stated the Chief, no
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one has ever been able to catchthis Chainey person in the act of departing
from the straight and narrow path.However, that's a matter of the past.
What we've got to find out iswhat he is planning now, why
he is in New York, andwhy he has attached himself to the pro
German element, which has all kindsof wild schemes of its sleeve. And
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I'm the one who's going to handleit, inquired guy with a precisely grinned
the chief. Oh, I know, it doesn't look like much of a
job, and I grant you thatthe thrill element will probably be lacking.
But you can't draw a snap everytime. All that's asked is that you
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get something on Cheney, something whichwill withstand the assaults of the lawyers.
He will undoubtedly hire the minute welay hands on him. Therefore, you've
got to be mighty careful to havethe right dope. If you're satisfied that
he's doing nothing out of the way, don't hesitate to say so. But
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I don't expect that your report willclear him, for from what we already
know of the gentleman, he's morelikely to be implicated in some plan aimed
directly at a violation of neutrality,and it's essential that we find out what
that is before we take any radicalstep. What do you know about Cheney
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was Randal's next question, followed byan explanation from the chief that the Count
had been suspected in a number ofcases and had barely been able to escape
in time. But added the headof the Secret Service, he did escape,
and that's what we have to preventthis time. He's a fast worker
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and a clever one, which meansthat you've got to keep continually after him.
Call in all the help you need. But if you take my advice
you'll handle the case alone. You'reapt to get a lot further that way.
Agreeing that this was the best methodto pursue, Randal caught the midnight
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train for New York and went atonce to police headquarters, where he requested
a full description of Cheney's previous activities. You're asking for something, what ain't,
he was informed, ungrammatically, Buttruthfully, we've never been able to
get a thing in the Count.Though we're dead certain that he had a
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finger in several crooked plays, theLatimer letters were never directly traced to him,
but it's a cinch that he hadsomething to do with their preparation,
just as he had with the blackmailingof old Man Branchfield and the smuggling of
Van Husen. Emeralds. You rememberthat case, don't you, The one
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where the stones were concealed in alife preserver and they staged a man overboard
stunt just as the ship came intothe harbor. Nobody ever got the stones
or proved that they were actually smuggled. But the Count happened to be on
the ship at the time, justas he happened to be in Paris when
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they were sold. We didn't evendare arrest him, which accounts for the
fact that his photograph doesn't ornament therogue's gallery. Well, what's the idea
of trailing him then, just tofind out what he is doing? What
do you call those birds that flyaround at sea just before a gale breaks,
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stormy petrels. That's the Count.He's a stormy petrel of crookedness.
Something goes wrong every time he hitsa town, or rather just after he
leaves, for he's too clever tostick around too long. The question now
is what's this particular storm and whenis it going to break? Fine job
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to turn me loose on grumbled Randall. It is that, laughed the captain
who was dispensing information. But youcan never tell what you'll run into my
boy, why I remember once.Randall, however, was out of the
office before the official had gotten wellstarted in his reminiscences. He figured that
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he had already had too much ofa grouch to listen patiently to some long
winded story dug out of the mustyarchives of police history, and he made
his way at once to the hotelwhere Carl Cheney was registered, flaunting his
own name in front of the police, whom he must have known were watching
him. Neither the house detective northe plainclothesman who had been delegated to trail
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Cheney could add anything of interest tothe little that Randall already knew. The
count, they said, had conductedhimself in a most circumspect manner, and
had not been actually seen in conferencewith any of the Germans with whom he
was supposed to be in league.He's too slick for that, added the
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man from the Central Office. Wheneverhe's got a conference on, he goes
up to the club, and youcan't get in there with anything less than
a battering ram and raiding squad.There's no chance to plant a dictaphone.
And how else are you going toget the information? What does he do
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at other times, countered guy,preferring not to reply to the former question
until he had gotten a better lineon the case. Behaves himself was the
laconic answer. Takes a drive inthe park in the afternoon, dines here
or at one of the other hotels, goes to the theater, and usually
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finishes up with a little supper somewhereamong the white lights. Any women in
sight, Yes, two, ablonde from the girl shell that's planted at
the Knickerbocker, and a redhead.Don't know who she is, but they're
both good lookers. No scandal,though. Everything appears to be on the
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level, even the women well musedthe government of After a moment's silence,
I guess I'd better get on thejob. Probably means a long stretch of
dull work. But the sooner Iget at it, the sooner I'll get
over it. Where is Cheney nowup in his room? Hasn't come down
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to breakfast yet? Yes, therehe is, now, just getting out
of the elevator, headed toward thedining room, and the plainclothesman indicated the
tall figure of a man about forty, a man dressed in the height of
fashion, with spats a cane anda morning coat of the most correct cut.
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Want me for anything, not athing, said Randall absently. I'll
pick him up. Now. Youmight tell the Chief to watch out for
a hurry call from me, thoughI'm afraid he won't get it. As
events proved, Randall was dead right. The Central Office heard nothing from him
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for several months, and even Washingtonreceived only stereotype reports indicative of what Cheney
was doing, which wasn't much.Shortly after the first of the year,
Guy sent a wire to the Chiefasking to be relieved for a day or
two in order that he might befree to come to Washington. Sensing the
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fact that the operative had some planwhich he wished to discuss personally, the
Chief put another man on Cheney's trailand instructed Randall to report at the Treasury
Department on the following morning. What'sthe matter, inquired the man at the
head of the service, as Guy, a little thinner than formerly and showing
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by the wrinkles about his eyes thestrain under which he was working, strolled
into the office. Nothing's the matter, Chief, and that's where the trouble
lies. You know, I've neverkicked about work, no matter how much
of it I've had, But thisthing's beginning to get on my nerves.
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Cheney is planning some coup. I'mdead certain of that what it's all about,
though I haven't the least idea.The plans are being late in the
German American Club, and there's nochance of getting in there. How About
bribing one of the employees to leave. Can't be done. I've tried it
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half a dozen times. They're allGermans and as such in the organization.
However, I have a plan.Strictly speaking, it's outside the law,
but that's why I wanted to talkthings over with you. When Randall had
finished outlining his plan, the Chiefsat for a moment in thought. Then
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are you sure you can put itover? He inquired. Of course I
can. It's done every other dayanyhow, by the cops themselves. Why
shouldn't we take a leaf out oftheir book? I know, but there's
always the possibility of a diplomatic protest. Not in this case. Chief.
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The man's only a waiter, Andbesides, before the embassy has a chance
to hear about it, I'll havefound out what I want to know.
Then, if they want to raisea row let em. The upshot of
the matter was that about a weeklater, Franz Heilman, a waiter employed
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at the German American Club in NewYork, was arrested one night and hailed
into night court on a charge ofcarrying concealed weapons, a serious offense under
the Sullivan Act. In vain,he protested that he had never carried a
pistol in his life. Patrolman Flaherty, who had made the arrest, produced
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the weapon, which he claimed tohave found in Hylmann's possession, and the
prisoner was held for trial bright andearly the next morning, Randall, disguised
by a mustache which he had trainedfor just such an occasion, and bearing
a carefully falsified letter from a Germanbrewer in Milwaukee, presented himself at the
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employee's entrance of the German American Cluband asked for the steward to that individual.
He told his story how he hadtried to get back to the Fatherland
and had failed, how he hadbeen out of work for nearly a month,
and how he would like to secureemployment of some kind at the club,
where he would at least be amongfriends. After a thorough examination of
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the credentials of the supposed German,who had explained his accent by the statement
that he had been brought to theUnited States when very young and had been
raised in Wisconsin. The steward informedhim that there was a temporary vacancy in
the club's staff which he could filluntil Heilman returned. The duties, the
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steward added, are very light,and the pay, while not large,
will enable you to lay by alittle something toward your return trip to Germany.
Knowing that his time was limited,Randall determined to let nothing stand in
the way of his hearing all thatwent on in the room where Cheney and
his associates held their conferences. Itwas the work of only a few moments
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to bore holes in the door whichconnected this room with an unused coat closet,
plugging up the holes with corks stainedto simulate the wood itself, and
the instant the conference was on,the new waiter disappeared. An hour later.
He slipped out of the side entranceto the club, and the steward
is probably wondering to this day whatbecame of him. Had he been able
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to listen him in the private wirewhich connected the new York Office of the
Secret Service with headquarters at Washington.He would have had the key to the
mystery. Chief reported Randall, I'vegot the whole thing. There's a plot
on foot to raise one hundred andfifty thousand German reservists men already in this
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country, mobilizing them in four divisionswith six sections. The first two divisions
are to assemble at Silver Creek,Michigan, the first one seizing the welland
Canal, and the second capturing WindmillPoint, Ontario. The third is to
meet at Wilson, New York,and will march on Port Hope. The
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fourth will go from Watertown, NewYork to Kingston, Ontario, while the
fifth will assemble somewhere near Detroit andproceed toward Windsor. The sixth will stage
an attack on Ottawa, operating fromCornwall. They've got their plans all laid
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for the coup, and Cheney reportedtoday that he intends to purchase some eighty
five boats to carry the invading forceinto the dominion. The only thing that's
delaying the game is the question ofprovisions for the army. Cheney's holding out
for another advance. From what Igathered, he's already received a lot and
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claims that he will be powerless untilhe gets it. I didn't stay to
listen to the argument, for Ifigured that i'd better leave while the leaving
was good. The reply that cameback from Washington was rather startling to the
operative, who expected only commendation andthe statement that his task was completed.
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What evidence have you that this invasionis planned? None besides what I heard
through holes which I boared in oneof the doors of the German American Club
this morning. That won't stand incourt. We don't dare to arrest this
man, chainey on that. You'vegot to get something on him, plant
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it no, get it straight.And we can't wait for this expedition to
start either. That would be takingtoo much of a chance. It's up
to you to do a little speedywork in the research line, dig back
into the count's past and find somethingon which we can hold him for.
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He's very evidently the brains of theorganization, in spite of the fact that
he probably is working only for whathe can get of that fund that the
Germans have raised. I understand thatat sixteen million dollars, and that's enough
to tempt better men than Cheney.Now go to it, and remember you've
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got to work fast. Disappointed,chagrined by the air of finality with which
the receiver at the Washington end ofthe line was hung up, Randal wandered
out of the New York office witha scowl on his face and deep lines
of thought between his eyes. Ifhe hadn't been raised in the school which
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holds that a man's only irretrievable mistakeis to quit under fire, he'd have
thrown up his job right there andlet some one else tackle the work of
landing the Count. But he hadto admit that the Chief was right.
And besides, there was every reasonto suppose that grave issues hung in the
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balance. The invasion of Canada meantthe overthrow of a American neutrality, the
failure of the plans which the Presidentand the State Department had so carefully laid
Cheney was the crux of the wholesituation. Once held on a charge that
could be proved in court, theplot would fall through for want of a
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capable leader. For the operative hadlearned enough during his hour in the cloakroom
to know that the Count was themainspring of the whole movement. Despite the
fact that he undoubtedly expected to reapa rich financial harvest for himself, selecting
a seat on the top of afifth Avenue bus, Randall resigned himself to
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a consideration of the problem. Thewhole thing he figured simmers down to Cheney
himself in its ramifications. Of course, it's a question of peace or war,
But in reality it's a matter oflanding a crook by lagitimate means I
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can't plan a gun on him likethey did on Heilman, and there's mighty
little chance of connecting him with abranch Field case or the Van Yusen Emeralds.
At this late date, his conductaround town has certainly been blameless enough,
not even any women to speak of. Wait a minute, though,
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there were two, the blonde fromthe Knickerbocker and that red haired dame.
He's still chasing around with the blonde. But what's become of miss redhead?
This train of thought had possibilities.If the girl had been cast aside,
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it was probable that she would haveno objection to telling what she knew,
particularly as the color of her hairhinted at the possession of what the owner
would call temperament while the rest ofthe world forgets to add the last syllable.
It didn't take long to locate theowner of the Fiery tresses. A
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quick round up of the head waitersat the cafes which Cheney frequented. A
taxi tripped to Washington Square and anotherto the section above Columbus Circle, and
Randal found that the red haired beautywas known as Olga Brainerd, an artist's
model whose face had appeared upon thecover of practically every popular publication in the
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country. She had been out oftown for the past two months, he
learned, but had just returned andhad taken an apartment in a section of
the city which indicated the possession ofconsiderable capital. Miss Brainard, said Randal.
When he was face to face withthe Titian beauty in the drawing room
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of her suite, I came witha message from your friend Carl Cheney.
Here, he paused and watched herexpression very closely. As he had hoped,
the girl was unable to master herfeelings. Rage and hate wrote themselves
large across her face, and hervoice fairly snapped as she started to reply.
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Randall, however, interrupted her witha smile and the statement that's enough.
I'm going to lay my cards faceup on the table. I am
a secret service operative seeking information aboutCheney. Here is my badge, merely
to prove that I'm telling the truth. We have reason to believe that the
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Count, as he is called,is mixed up with a pro German plot,
which, if successful, would imperilthe peace of the country. Can
you tell us anything about him?Can? I echoed the girl the beast
He promised to marry me more thantwo months ago and then got infatuated with
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some blonde shit of a chorus girljust because I lost my head and showed
him a letter I had received,a letter warning me against him. He
flew into a rage and threatened,well, never mind what he did say.
The upshot of the affair was thathe sent me out of town and
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gave me enough money to last mesome time. But he'll pay for his
insults. Have you the letter youreceived? Asked Randall, casually, as
if it meant little to him whetherthe girl produced it or not. Yes,
I kept it. Wait a momentand I'll get it for you.
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A few seconds later, she wasback with a note written in a feminine
hand a note which read, ifyou are wise, you will ask the
man who calls himself Carl Cheney whathe knows of Paul Weiss, of George
Winters, and Oscar Stanley. Youmight also inquire what has become of Florence
and Rose, signed Amelia Randall lookedup with a puzzled expression. What's all
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this about, he inquired. Soundslike Greek to me, To me too,
agreed the girl. But it wasenough to make Carl purple with rage,
and what's more, to separate himfrom several thousand dollars wis Winters and
Stanley mused, Guy, those mighteasily be Cheney's former aliases, Florence,
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Rose and Amelia. I wonder,Come on, girl, we're going to
take a ride down to City Hall. I've got a hunch. Late that
afternoon, when Carl Cheney arrived athis hotel, he was surprised to find
a young man awaiting him in hisapartment, a man who appeared to be
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perfectly at ease, and who slippedover and locked the door once the Count
was safely within the room. Whatdoes this mean, demanded Cheney. By
what right it means? Snapped Randalthat the game's up. Then, raising
his voice, he called Missus Weiss, and a tall woman parted the curtains.
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At the other end of the room, Missus Winters and another woman entered
Missus Stanley, and a third camein with his fingers still caressing the butt
of the automatic which nestled in hiscoat pocket. Randal continued, Cheney,
or whatever your real name is,there won't be any invasion of Canada.
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We know all about your plans.In fact, the arsenal on Houston Street
is in possession of the police atthis moment. It was a good idea,
and undoubtedly you would have cleaned upon it were it not for the
fact that I am under the farfrom painful necessity of arresting you on a
charge of bigamy or would you callit trigger me? The records at City
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Hall gave you away after one ofthese ladies had been kind enough to provide
us with a clue to the threealiases under which you conducted your matrimonial operations.
Come on, count The Germans mayneed you worse than we do,
but we happen to have you.End of chapter fifteen.