



Produced by Al Haines









[Illustration: Cover art]



[Frontispiece: "Until I come to you as--as you have never known me
yet!"]




THE BLIND MAN'S EYES


By WILLIAM MACHARG & EDWIN BALMER




With Frontispiece

By WILSON C. DEXTER




A. L. BURT COMPANY

Publishers ---- New York


Published by Arrangements with LITTLE, BROWN & COMPANY




_Copyright, 1916,_

BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY


_All rights reserved_




To

R. G.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER

     I  A FINANCIER DIES
    II  THE EXPRESS IS HELD FOR A PERSONAGE
   III  MISS DORNE MEETS EATON
    IV  TRUCE
     V  ARE YOU HILLWARD?
    VI  THE HAND IN THE AISLE
   VII  "ISN'T THIS BASIL SANTOINE?"
  VIII  SUSPICION FASTENS ON EATON
    IX  QUESTIONS
     X  THE BLIND MAN'S EYES
    XI  PUBLICITY NOT WANTED
   XII  THE ALLY IN THE HOUSE
  XIII  THE MAN FROM THE TRAIN
   XIV  IT GROWS PLAINER
    XV  DONALD AVERY IS MOODY
   XVI  SANTOINE'S "EYES" FAIL HIM
  XVII  THE FIGHT IN THE STUDY
 XVIII  UNDER COVER OF DARKNESS
   XIX  PURSUIT
    XX  WAITING
   XXI  WHAT ONE CAN DO WITHOUT EYES
  XXII  THE MAN HUNT
 XXIII  NOT EATON--OVERTON
  XXIV  THE FLAW IN THE LEFT EYE
   XXV  "IT'S ALL RIGHT, HUGH"--AT LAST




THE BLIND MAN'S EYES


CHAPTER I

A FINANCIER DIES

Gabriel Warden--capitalist, railroad director, owner of mines and
timber lands, at twenty a cow-puncher, at forty-eight one of the
predominant men of the Northwest Coast--paced with quick, uneven steps
the great wicker-furnished living room of his home just above Seattle
on Puget Sound.  Twice within ten minutes he had used the telephone in
the hall to ask the same question and, apparently to receive the same
reply--that the train from Vancouver, for which he had inquired, had
come in and that the passengers had left the station.

It was not like Gabriel Warden to show nervousness of any sort; Kondo,
the Japanese doorman, who therefore had found something strange in this
telephoning, watched him through the portieres which shut off the
living-room from the hall.  Three times Kondo saw him--big, uncouth in
the careless fit of his clothes, powerful and impressive in his
strength of feature and the carriage of his well-shaped head--go to the
window and, watch in hand, stand staring out.  It was a Sunday evening
toward the end of February--cold, cloudy and with a chill wind driving
over the city and across the Sound.  Warden evidently saw no one as he
gazed out into the murk; but each moment, Kondo observed, his
nervousness increased.  He turned suddenly and pressed the bell to call
a servant.  Kondo, retreating silently down the hall, advanced again
and entered the room; he noticed then that Warden's hand, which was
still holding the watch before him, was shaking.

"A young man who may, or may not, give a name, will ask for me in a few
moments.  He will say he called by appointment.  Take him at once to my
smoking-room, and I will see him there.  I am going to Mrs. Warden's
room now."

He went up the stairs, Kondo noticed, still absently holding his watch
in his hand.

Warden controlled his nervousness before entering his wife's
room,--where she had just finished dressing to go out,--so that she did
not at first sense anything unusual.  In fact, she talked with him
casually for a moment or so before she even sent away her maid.  He had
promised a few days before to accompany her to a concert; she thought
he had come simply to beg off.  When they were alone, she suddenly saw
that he had come to her to discuss some serious subject.

"Cora," he said, when he had closed the door after the maid, "I want
your advice on a business question."

"A business question!"  She was greatly surprised.  She was a number of
years younger than he; he was one of those men who believe all business
matters should be kept from their wives.

"I mean it came to me through some business--discoveries."

"And you cannot decide it for yourself?"

"I had decided it."  He looked again at his watch.  "I had quite
decided it; but now--It may lead to some result which I have suddenly
felt that I haven't the right to decide entirely for myself."

Warden's wife for the first time felt alarmed.  She could not well
describe his manner; it did not suggest fear for himself; she could not
imagine his feeling such fear; but she was frightened.  She put her
hand on his arm.

"You mean it affects me directly?"

"It may.  For that reason I feel I must do what you would have me do."

He seized both her hands in his and held her before him; she waited for
him to go on.

"Cora," he said, "what would you have me do if you knew I had found out
that a young man--a man who, four or five years ago, had as much to
live for as any man might--had been outraged in every right by men who
are my friends?  Would you have me fight the outfit for him?  Or would
you have me--lie down?"

His fingers almost crushed hers in his excitement.  She stared at him
with only pride then; she was proud of his strength, of his ability to
fight, of the power she knew he possessed to force his way against
opposition.  "Why, you would fight them!"

"You mean you want me to?"

"Isn't that what you had decided to do?"

He only repeated.  "You want me to fight them?"

"Of course."

"No matter what it costs?"

She realized then that what he was facing was very grave.

"Cora," he said, "I didn't come to ask your advice without putting this
squarely to you.  If I go into this fight, I shall be not only an
opponent to some of my present friends; I shall be a threat to
them--something they may think it necessary to remove."

"Remove?"

"Such things have happened--to better men than I, over smaller matters."

She cried out.  "You mean some one might kill you?"

"Should that keep me from going in?"

She hesitated.  He went on: "Would you have me afraid to do a thing
that ought to be done, Cora?"

"No," she said; "I would not."

"All right, then.  That's all I had to know now.  The young man is
coming to see me to-night, Cora.  Probably he's downstairs.  I'll tell
you all I can after I've talked with him."

Warden's wife tried to hold him a moment more, but he loosed himself
from her and left her.

He went directly downstairs; as he passed through the hall, the
telephone bell rang.  Warden himself answered it.  Kondo, who from his
place in the hall overheard Warden's end of the conversation, made out
only that the person at the other end of the line appeared to be a
friend, or at least an acquaintance, of Warden's.  Kondo judged this
from the tone of the conversation; Warden spoke no names.  Apparently
the other person wished to see Warden at once.  Warden finished, "All
right; I'll come and get you.  Wait for me there."  Then he hung up.

Turning to Kondo, he ordered his limousine car.  Kondo transmitted the
order and brought Warden's coat and cap; then Kondo opened the house
door for him and the door of the limousine, which had been brought
under the porte-cochere.  Kondo heard Warden direct the chauffeur to a
drug store near the center of the city; the chauffeur was Patrick
Corboy, a young Irishman who had been in Warden's employ for more than
five years; his faithfulness to Warden was never questioned.  Corboy
drove to the place Warden had directed.  As they stopped, a young man
of less than medium height, broad-shouldered and wearing a mackintosh,
came to the curb and spoke to Warden.  Corboy did not hear the name,
but Warden immediately asked the man into the car; he directed Corboy
to return home.  The chauffeur did this, but was obliged on the way to
come to a complete stop several times, as he met streetcars or other
vehicles on intersecting streets.

Almost immediately after Warden had left the house, the door-bell rang
and Kondo answered it.  A young man with a quiet and pleasant bearing
inquired for Mr. Warden and said he came by appointment.  Kondo ushered
him into the smoking room, where the stranger waited.  The <DW61> did not
announce this arrival to any one, for he had already received his
instructions; but several times in the next half hour he looked in upon
him.  The stranger was always sitting where he had seated himself when
Kondo showed him in; he was merely waiting.  In about forty minutes,
Corboy drove the car under the porte-cochere again and got down and
opened the door.  Kondo had not heard the car at once, and the
chauffeur had not waited for him.  There was no motion inside the
limousine.  The chauffeur looked in and saw Mr. Warden lying back
quietly against the cushions in the back of the seat; he was alone.

Corboy noticed then that the curtains all about had been pulled down;
he touched the button and turned on the light at the top of the car,
and then he saw that Warden was dead; his cap was off, and the top of
his head had been smashed in by a heavy blow.

The chauffeur drew back, gasping; Kondo, behind him on the steps, cried
out and ran into the house calling for help.  Two other servants and
Mrs. Warden, who had remained nervously in her room, ran down.  The
stranger who had been waiting, now seen for the first time by Mrs.
Warden, came out from the smoking room to help them.  He aided in
taking the body from the car and helped to carry it into the living
room and lay it on a couch; he remained until it was certain that
Warden had been killed and nothing could be done.  When this had been
established and further confirmed by the doctor who was called, Kondo
and Mrs. Warden looked around for the young man--but he was no longer
there.

The news of the murder brought extras out upon the streets of Seattle,
Tacoma, and Portland at ten o'clock that night; the news took the first
page in San Francisco, Chicago, and New York papers, in competition
with the war news, the next morning.  Seattle, stirred at once at the
murder of one of its most prominent citizens, stirred still further at
the new proof that Warden had been a power in business and finance;
then, as the second