The Blind Man's Eyes   By: Edwin Balmer (1883-1959)

[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 portières 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?"