E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustration. See 21998-h.htm or 21998-h.zip: (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/9/21998/21998-h/21998-h.htm) or (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/9/21998/21998-h.zip) THE LION'S MOUSE by C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON Frontispiece By Harry Stacey Benton Garden City New York Doubleday, Page & Company 1919 Copyright, 1919, by C. N. & A. M. Williamson All Rights Reserved, Including That of Translation into Foreign Languages, Including the Scandinavian [Illustration: _Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a young and beautiful woman hovering at the door._ _'Oh, do help me!' she said._] CONTENTS I. THE LION II. THE NET III. THE MOUSE IV. THE MURMUR OF THE STORM V. ON THE WAY TO THE CAR VI. THE PARCEL WITH THE GOLD SEALS VII. THE QUEEN'S PEARLS VIII. BEVERLEY TALKS IX. THE BLUFF THAT FAILED X. THE BLUFF THAT WON XI. O'REILLY'S WAISTCOAT POCKET XII. THE HORIZONTAL PANEL XIII. "THERE CAN BE NO BARGAIN" XIV. THE STONE COPING XV. THE NUMBER SEVENTEEN XVI. A QUOTATION FROM SHAKESPEARE XVII. THE MYSTERY OF THE BOUDOIR XVIII. DEFEAT XIX. THE BROWN TRUNK XX. MURDER XXI. "KIT!" XXII. THE VOICE THAT DID NOT SEEM STRANGE XXIII. "WHAT'S DONE CAN'T BE UNDONE" XXIV. ROGER'S APPOINTMENT AT THE CLUB XXV. KRANTZ'S KELLER XXVI. THE GIRL IN PINK XXVII. WHEN BEVERLEY CAME HOME XXVIII. MR. JONES OF PEORIA XXIX. ACCORDING TO THE MORNING PAPERS XXX. WHAT CLO DID WITH A KNIFE XXXI. THE NINE DAYS XXXII. "STEPHEN'S DEAD!" XXXIII. THE PATCH ON THE PILLOW XXXIV. TRAPPED XXXV. THE TIME LIMIT OF HOPE XXXVI. "WE DO THINGS QUICKLY OVER HERE" XXXVII. THE TELEGRAM XXXVIII. WHO IS STEPHEN? XXXIX. ON THE ROAD TO NEWPORT THE LION'S MOUSE I THE LION Roger Sands had steel-gray eyes, a straight black line of brows drawn low and nearly meeting above them, thick black hair lightly powdered with silver at the temples, and a clean-shaven, aggressive chin. He had the air of being hard as nails. Most people, including women, thought him hard as nails. He thought it of himself, and gloried in his armour, never more than on a certain September day, when resting in the Santa Fe Limited, tearing back to New York after a giant's tussle in California. But--it was hot weather, and he had left the stateroom door open. Everything that followed came--from this. Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a woman hovering, rather than standing, at the door. At his look she started away, then stopped. "Oh, do help me!" she said.