The Complete Adventures of Hazard & Partridge by Robert J. Pearsall Page A

stayed. Perhaps she wanted to be on hand at the finding of the sapphire—if it were found. Well, my wish corresponded. If it were not found, I wanted her to know it and be sure of it.
    I had, in fact, a remarkably strong desire to stand well in the estimation of Miss Maxon. And I was meditating upon this and also upon the problems connected with the Ko Lao Hui when we both heard quick, nervous steps coming up the gravel path in front of the house. I whispered a wholly unnecessary warning to Miss Maxon to keep quiet. Neither of us made a sound, but both were on our feet when the key of the newcomer grated in the lock of the front door.
    WHEN—after the front door had opened and closed again—the hall lights were switched on by some one who seemed perfectly familiar with their surroundings, I was standing just within the dining-room door, with Miss Maxon perhaps a pace behind me. As the man for whom we had waited started down the hall, I heard the slightest stirring in the closet, which indicated that Hardridge was also alert.
    The visitor, however, passed the door of the closet without pausing and came on unhesitatingly down the hall. The parlor and the reception-room he had already passed; there remained but two possible objectives, the library and the room wherein Miss Maxon and I watched. That he should turn into the latter had been a chance I had been compelled to take; if he did, the adventure would be apt to end speedily and crudely. But great jewels, I had reasoned, are not often concealed in dining-rooms.
    Yet, as the girl and I held our breaths, he passed our door, too, without a glance at the obscurity beyond it.
    Though he could hardly have seen us had he looked our way, he was fully revealed by the hall light. The one look I had of him was hardly reassuring for the success of the game I had in mind. If we had ever looked alike, then I owed it to my self-respect to believe that Maxon had changed greatly. But, indeed, I suppose he had, for life stamps every face with life’s own mark, and Maxon’s face had become a danger signal of vice and cowardice. Now I was very glad I hadn’t worn my borrowed identity long.
    There was now only one door into which Maxon could turn, and he entered the library across the hall without hesitation, like one sure of his objective. I felt a touch on my arm and looked around into Miss Maxon’s eyes, very close. They seemed to flash me at once a warning and question, and I shook my head reassuringly. There was no chance of Maxon’s passing out except by the front door. To a man of his temperament nothing could be less attractive than the gloom and desolation of the black rocks that flanked the rear exit.
    The sound of Maxon’s movements had ceased. He had only been feeling for the switch, for now, peering obliquely down the hall, I saw the library lights flash on. It seemed that he crossed the room; there was another moment of silence and then a sort of rending, scraping sound.
    Which sound was, we afterward learned, the spring-impelled opening of a small door in the library wall and the tearing of the wall-paper that had been put on over it. Behind which door was a small vault, of which I suppose only John Maxon, Sr., had the knowledge and the key until he had passed it on to his son.
    Maxon had the sapphire—I knew so much from his low exclamation of relief. Hardridge must have heard it, too, for he stirred uneasily in his prison room. Miss Maxon’s breathing quickened, while I— Well, I held in my hand almost literally the key to the unexpected, and my egotism was pleasantly stirred.
    Maxon came out of the library, now with a quickened movement and on tiptoe. He passed our door, bent over, fleeing. We heard something. Was it a bolt that had been drawn? John Maxon stopped short.
    A door was flung violently open. It was the door behind which Hardridge, up to a scanty thirty seconds before, had been confined. And instantly I stepped out into the hall behind Maxon. In fact, I