miscarriage of their original plans. It was not fear that had led to
this meeting--no escape of their prisoner, no suspicion that their
conspiracy had been discovered, no alarm of exposure--but merely the
careful completion of plans long before perfected. Apparently every
detail of the crime, which meant the winning of Frederick Cavendish's
fortune, had been thus far successfully carried out. The money was
already practically in their possession, and not the slightest
suspicion had been aroused. It had been a masterpiece of criminal
ingenuity, so boldly carried out as to avoid danger of discovery.

Westcott believed he saw the purpose which had actuated the ruling
spirit--a desire to attain these millions without bloodshed; without
risking any charge of murder. This whole affair had been no vulgar,
clumsy crime; it was more nearly a business proposition, cold-blooded,
deliberately planned, cautiously executed. Every step had been taken
exactly in accord with the original outlines, except possibly that they
had been hurried by Cavendish's sudden determination to return West,
and his will disinheriting John. These had compelled earlier action,
yet no radical change in plans, as the machinery was already prepared
and in position. Luck had been with the conspirators when Frederick
called in Enright to draw up the will. What followed was merely the
pressure of his finger on the button.

Enright! Beyond doubt his were the brains dominating the affair. It
was impossible to believe that either Celeste La Rue or Ned
Beaton--chorus girl or gunman--could have ever figured out such a
scheme. They were nothing but pawns, moved by the hand of the chief
player. Aye! and John Cavendish was another!

The whole foul thing lay before Westcott's imagination in its