“Very good, Mr. Klein,” he announced curtly. “Your deductions are well conceived. You’re almost as clever an artist as myself.” He laughed again. “But whatever you’ve discovered--and I admit it isn’t a thousand miles from the truth--you’ll keep to yourself. If I have been clever in one way I have been in others. You see, Mr. Klein, I work out all my plans according to system, and they seldom fail me.” “I’m afraid this will fail,” Klein answered. “Not at all. Momentarily interrupted--that is all. You had better run along and forget what you have just seen.” “You appear to be extremely confident that I----” “It is a confidence inspired by careful scheming and mature deliberation,” broke in the detective, his voice once more assuming that quiet drawl, which since the first had interested Klein. “And of course you will not think of mentioning to-night’s incident, Mr. Klein, realizing the circumstances that surround you.” “I know of but one circumstance that could seal my lips,” replied Klein, “and that would be an extreme one. As there are slight prospects of such a miracle taking place, I’m afraid, Mr. Jarge, you will be compelled to accompany me into the house. I’m sure Mr. Lydecker will be interested in learning the identity of the----” “Don’t you think the police of New York City would be as interested in finding you, Mr. Klein?” interrupted Jarge. Klein’s lips hardened. This, then, was the weapon with which the detective hoped to club him into silence. “I am quite willing to return to New York--after to-night,” he replied. “It would be rather unpleasant, would it not? A man accused of assault to kill is not granted many favors. I do not like to see you deliberately put your head into a noose, Mr. Klein. Especially as I have twice saved you from capture.” “What’s that?” Klein’s heart started throbbing just a trifle faster than normal. “You saved me?” “Yes. I was the unknown who aided you to escape that night in Mrs. Wold’s boarding house. And several nights later, on board the _Providence_, I saved you from a certain zealous newspaper reporter, who had taken passage with the intention of apprehending you.” Klein could have shouted aloud at this unexpected confession. He was glad of the heavy shadows, for his face must have mirrored his thoughts. Only a wooden man could have remained stolid under similar circumstances. That Jarge was the unknown who had pushed him through the door that night in Mrs. Wold’s boarding house, with a whispered “Run for it!” in his ear, thereby saving him from the police, came as the proverbial bolt from the blue. Yet, instead of cowering Klein, as the other had naturally expected it would, the confession served to bridge the few remaining gaps in the otherwise perfect wall of the Delmar case.