The Treasure-Train | Page 2

plotting the casual conversation suggested. New York, I knew, was full
of high-class international crooks and flimflammers who had flocked
there because the great field of their operations in Europe was closed.
The war had literally dumped them on us. Was some one using a band
of these crooks for ulterior purposes? The idea opened up wide
possibilities.
"Of course," Miss Euston continued, "that is all I know; but I think I am
justified in thinking that the two things--the shipment of gold here and
the attack--have some connection. Oh, can't you take up the case and
look into it?"
She made her appeal so winsomely that it would have been difficult to
resist even if it had not promised to prove important.
"I should be glad to take up the matter," replied Craig, quickly, adding,
"if Mr. Barnes will let me."
"Oh, he must!" she cried. "I haven't spoken to father, but I know that he
would approve of it. I know he thinks I haven't any head for business,
just because I wasn't born a boy. I want to prove to him that I can
protect the companies interests. And Mr. Barnes-- why, of course he
will approve."
She said it with an assurance that made me wonder. It was only then
that I recollected that it had been one of the excuses for printing her
picture in the society columns of the Star so often that the pretty
daughter of the president of the Continental was being ardently wooed
by two of the company's younger officials. Granville Barnes himself
was one. The other was Rodman Lane, the young general manager. I
wished now that I had paid more attention to the society news. Perhaps
I should have been in a better position to judge which of them it was
whom she really had chosen. As it was, two questions presented
themselves to me. Was it Barnes? And had Barnes really been the
victim of an attack--or of an accident?
Kennedy may have been thinking the problems over, but he gave no

evidence of it. He threw on his hat and coat, and was ready in a
moment to be driven in Miss Euston's car to the hospital.
There, after the usual cutting of red tape which only Miss Euston could
have accomplished, we were led by a white-uniformed nurse through
the silent halls to the private room occupied by Barnes.
"It's a most peculiar case," whispered the young doctor in charge, as we
paused at the door. "I want you to notice his face and his cough. His
pulse seems very weak, almost imperceptible at times. The stethoscope
reveals subcrepitant sounds all over his lungs. It's like bronchitis or
pneumonia--but it isn't either."
We entered. Barnes was lying there almost in a state of
unconsciousness. As we stood watching him he opened his eyes. But he
did not see us. His vision seemed to be riveted on Miss Euston. He
murmured something that we could not catch, and, as his eyes closed
again, his face seemed to relax into a peaceful expression, as though he
were dreaming of something happy.
Suddenly, however, the old tense lines reappeared. Another idea
seemed to have been suggested.
"Is--Lane--hiring the men--himself?" he murmured.
The sight of Maude Euston had prompted the thought of his rival, now
with a clear field. What did it mean? Was he jealous of Lane, or did his
words have a deeper meaning? What difference could it have made if
Lane had a free hand in managing the shipment of treasure for the
company?
Kennedy looked long and carefully at the face of the sick man. It was
blue and cyanosed still, and his lips had a violet tinge. Barnes had been
coughing a great deal. Now and then his mouth was flecked with foamy
blood, which the nurse wiped gently away. Kennedy picked up a piece
of the blood-soaked gauze.
A moment later we withdrew from the room as quietly as we had

entered and tiptoed down the hall, Miss Euston and the young doctor
following us more slowly. As we reached the door, I turned to see
where she was. A distinguished-looking elderly gentleman, sitting in
the waiting-room, had happened to glance up as she passed and had
moved quickly to the hall.
"What--you here, Maude?" we heard him say.
"Yes, father. I thought I might be able to do something for Granville."
She accompanied the remark with a sidelong glance and nod at us,
which Kennedy interpreted to mean that we might as well keep in the
background. Euston himself, far from chiding her, seemed rather to be
pleased than otherwise. We could not hear all they said, but one
sentence was wafted over.
"It's most unfortunate, Maude, at just this time. It leaves the whole