"I stepped up to her, and politely raising my hat said, 'Good morning,
Mrs. Bater. I've a message for you.' "'I don't know you,' she said eyeing me very doubtfully, 'who are
you?' "'Forgotten!' I said tragically, 'and I had flattered myself it would
be otherwise. Still I must try and survive. I wanted to ask you a
favour, Mrs. Bater.' "'A favour!' she exclaimed nervously, 'what is it? You are really a
very extraordinary individual.' "'I was only going to ask if I might examine the contents of your
muff? I think you have certain articles in it that have not been paid
for--and I believe I am right in saying this is by no means the first
time such a thing has happened.' "She turned so pale I thought she was going to faint. 'Why, whatever
do you mean,' she stammered, 'I've nothing that does not belong to
me.' "'Opinions differ on that score, Mrs. Bater,' I replied, 'you have a
pin, a hair brush, a scent bottle and a jar,' and I described them
each minutely, 'whilst in your house you have on your dressing-table a
silver-backed clothes brush, a silver manicure set you kleptomaniad--if
you prefer to call it so--from Deacon's in Sacramento Street; a
tortoiseshell manicure set, and an ivory card case you obtained in the
same manner from Varter's in Market Street; a set of silver buttons, a
glove stretcher, and a mauve pin-cushion--you likewise helped yourself
to--from Selter's in Kearney Street; but I might go on detailing them
to you till further orders, for your house is literally crammed with
them. You have done very well, Mrs. Bater, with the San Francisco
storekeepers.' "'Good God, man, what are you?' she gasped. 'You seem to read into the
innermost recesses of my soul, and to know everything.' "'You are right, madam,' I said, trying to appear very stern and
almost failing, she was so pretty. By Jove! you fellows, I wonder I
didn't kiss her; she had such fine eyes, my favourite nose, a ripping
mouth and--"

"Oh! go on! go on with your story. Never mind her looks," Curtis
interrupted, "I've got a touch of indigestion." "As I was saying," Kelson went on complacently, "I could have kissed
her and I felt downright mean for upsetting her so. "'Now you have found me out,' she said, 'what do you intend doing? Show me up in there?' and she pointed shudderingly at the store. "'No,' I said, 'not if you are sensible and come to terms. I will
agreeto say nothing about either this or any of your other--ahem!--
thefts--if you let me escort you home, and write me out a cheque for
a thousand dollars!' "'Beast!' she hissed, 'so you are a blackmailer!' "'A black beetle if you like,' I responded, 'but I assure you, Mrs.
Bater, I am letting you off cheap. I have only to call for a policeman
and your reputation would be gone at once. Besides, I know other
things about you.' "'What other things?' she stuttered. "'Well, madam!' I replied, 'some things are rather delicate--er--for
single men like me to mention, but I do know that--er--a lady--very
like--remarkably like--you, has in her pocket at this moment a rattle
which she bought and paid for in Oakland's late last night. And as,
madam, Mr. Bater has been dead over two years--let me see--yes, two
years yesterday--one can--!' "'Stay! that will do,' she whispered; 'come to my house and I will
give you the thousand dollars. You must pretend you are my cousin.' "'I will pretend anything, Mrs. Bater,' I murmured, helping her into a
taxi, 'anything so long as I can be with you.'" "You got the money?" Hamar queried. "Yes," Kelson said with a smile, "I got the money--in fact, everything
I asked for." There was silence for some minutes, and then Hamar said, "What next?" "What next!" Kelson said, "why I thought I had done a very good day's
work and was on my way back here to take a much needed rest, when I'm
dashed if the Unknown hadn't another adventure in store for me. Coming
out of a garden in Gough Street, within sight of Goad's house, was a
lady, young and very plain, but rigged out in one of those latest
fashion costumes--a very tight, short skirt, and huge hat with high
plume in it. By the bye, I can't think why this costume, which is so
admirably suited to pretty girls--because it attracts attention to
them--should be almost exclusively adopted by the ugly ones. But to
continue. I knew immediately that she was Ella Barlow, the
much-pampered and only daughter of J.B. Barlow, the vinegar magnate;
that she was in love, or imagined herself in love with Herbert Delmas,
the manager of the Columbian Bank--a young, good-looking fellow, whom
she had been trying to set against his fiancée, Dora Roberts. Dora is
only nineteen, very pretty and a trifle giddy--nothing more. But this
failing of hers--if you can call it a failing, was just the very
weapon Ella Barlow wanted. She worked on it at once, and by sending
Delmas a series of anonymous letters made him mad with jealousy. This
resulted in a breach between Delmas and Dora, and Ella Barlow, much
elated, at once tried to step into her shoes. She has been going out a
good deal with Delmas, who is in reality still very much in love with
Dora, and consequently exceedingly miserable. This morning Ella,
anxious to show off a magnificent set of diamonds, given her by her
father, telephoned to Delmas to take her to the Baldwyn Theatre, where
she has engaged a box for this evening--fondly hoping that the
diamonds will bring him up to the scratch, and that he will propose to
her. When I saw her she was on her way to a notorious quack doctor and
beauty specialist in Californian Street. She suffers from some nasty
skin disease, and is in mortal terror lest Delmas should get to know
of it, and also of the fact that all her teeth are false, and that two
of her toes are badly deformed." "By Jupiter!" Hamar ejaculated, "this divination of yours beats mine
into fits--nothing escapes you!" "No!" Kelson laughed, "nothing! Ella Barlow, metaphysical and physical
was laid before me just as bare as if the Almighty had got hold of her
with his dissecting knife. I saw everything--and what is more I said
to myself--here's plenty I can turn to a profitable account. Well! I
didn't stop her--I let her go." "Let her go!" Curtis growled, his mouth full of almonds and raisins. "You squirrel!" "Only for a time," Kelson said, "I went to see Delmas!" "Delmas!" Hamar interlocuted, "why the deuce Delmas?" "Impulse!" Kelson explained, "purely impulse." "Yes, but impulse is often a dangerous thing!" Hamar said, "it is
essential for us three, especially, to be on our guard against
impulse. What did you get out of Delmas?" "Nothing!" Kelson said looking rather shamefaced, "But the matter
hasn't ended yet. I'm going to the theatre after I've had something to
eat. I'll tell you what happens, to-morrow." It was late ere Kelson came down to breakfast the following day, and
Hamar and Curtis were comfortably seated in armchairs reading the
_Examiner_, when he joined them. "Well!" Hamar said, looking up at him, "what luck?"