THE joq of L1U1NQ •9 JACK THE CLIMBER SYNOPSIS.—Disliking the pros pect of a month's visit to her aus tere aunt, Lady Erythea Lambe, at'Jervaulx abbey, and her cousin, Alexander Lambe, Aimee, vivacious daughter of the Very Reverend Viscount Scroope, meets a young man who laughingly introduces himself as "Billy,'' American. The two ride on his motorcycle, the "Flying Sphinx," and part. With Georgina Berners, her cousin, Aimee sets out for Jervaulx. She forces Georgina to impersonate her at Jervaulx, and she goes on a holi day. Aimee again meets Billy. He tells her his name Is Spencer, and she gives hers as Amy Snookes, at present “out of a Job.'' Billy offers to take her into partnership in sell ing the Sphinx. In a spirit of mad cap adventure, she accepts. The two proceed to the town of Stan hoe, taking separate lodgings in Ivy cottage. While Aimee is se cretly visiting Georgina at Jer vaulx, the place is burglarized, and tt\e famous Lambe emeralds are stolen. Aimee escapes. Police de cide the thieves are "Jack the Climber’’ and '‘Calamity Kate,” who travel on a motorcycle. Billy, who has shadowed Aimee to Jer vaulx, follows the thieves. He is knocked out, but emerges from the fight with the Lambe emeralds. He meets Aimee, with the police in pursuit. In a secure hiding place, a cave among the crag pits, Aimee tells him the whole story. He urges her that she make a frank confes sion to her father, but on reflec tion both realize Almee’s good name has been compromised. • As suring Aimee he has a plan to save her, Billy leaves her in the cave and, proceeding to Jervaulx. re stores the emeralds to the astound ed Lady Erythea. Billy tells a / story that satisfies the police, re fuses a reward and accepts a chauffeur's job from Lady Erythea. Aimee gets the place of parlor maid at Jervaulx. Alexander thinks he recognizes Aimee as "Calamity Kate.” Georgina divulges Aimee’s identity. Hearing her story, Alex ander consents to keep the secret. Alexander finds himself very much in love with Georgina. Alexander’s sister, Lady Diana, arrives. An other visitor is the Vicomte de Jussac, her suitor, Diana recog nizes Aimee and threatens to de nounce her. Aimee confides in De Jussac-. De Jussac is accepted by Diana and Aitnee makes her prom ise to keep silence. Alexander is accepted by Georgina. Lady Ery thea, still in the dark, is delighted. CHAPTER XXI—Continued. —10— lie passed along the wider lane in the direction of Jervaulx, his eyes scanning the ground and the ditch. A little distance short of the gate through which Billy had wheeled the Sphinx when dodging the police, he stooped quickly and picked up a scrap of metal. It was the broken end of an exhaust silencer. “I was right!” ejaculated Billy. “Here they crashed again—or the en gine gave out for good. And they came the very way I did myself. And one of the two was lame—dead lame. One sure tliiqg—they couldn’t have got far that night. And if they weren’t able to ride the thing, what did they do with it?’’ He hurried to the far end of the field, where the last of the tracks had failed. He hesitated, and glanced to wards the distant crag-pits. * “What should I have done mysfclf— if I hadn’t known the ground?” he thought. “I'll try here first.” Less than a hundred yards to the right was a clump of brushwood, growing alone, a little oasis on the bare field. The bushes masked n narrow clay pit, twenty feet deep, that had been delved In times past to bring up the heavy marl subsoil and spread it over the sand ' field. It was now complete ly cloaked with brambles. Billy pulled them apart, and saw something gleam ing dimly at the bottom of the pit. It was the buckled frame of a big twin Indian motorcycle. With a whoop of triumph Billy clambered down the steep side of the * pit and disappeared through the bram bles. He remained below some time. When at last he emerged and stood on the 'brink, Billy’s face was rather pale’, and bis eyes’ troubled. “Great Caesar’s ghost!” lie said. “Who'd have expected this? Now—if I can pick up the other track. I'll have the game in my hands!” He hurried in the direction of the distant crag-pits, then suddenly pulled up short and glanced at his wrist watch. “Aimee!” he exclaimed. He had an appointment with Aimee at five, and an urgent one. It was al ready past the hour. Billy set off at a run, and in teh minutes reached the rendezvous. Aimee was there already, in a rough serge walking-cloak and a Snooks hat trimmed with oaliOo vio lets. In spite of the costume she looked vividly lovely. “Mr. Chauffeur,” said Aimee. severe ly, “I don’t know if you think I want to waste my afternoon off like this. You’re late.” “I’m sorry,” panted Billy. “Came as quick as 1 could." “What are you looking excited about?” she said, eyeing him- suspi ciously. “Ob—just seeing you,” blurted Billy. ‘That isn’t true. I’ve never seen you look excited before. You’ve found out something. What is it?” Billy paused. “It’s true. I have found out some thing.” he said quietly, “but there’s more to do, and I haven’t quite all the cards in my hands. It's the most amaz ing stunt yet. I’ll tell you about it the moment I’ve got it set.” Aimee looked at him wistfully. “I don’t think you ought to have any Bij SIDNEY QOUJ1NQ Illustrations b\j Ellsworth IJoutiq Copyright 1922 by Sidney Gowtitg secrets from your partner,” she said. "I always tell you everything.” “Give me till tonight,” pleaded Billy. “I hate to talk about It now. It’s ugly. By tonight we shall have either won or lost—hut we’ll win! Will you trust me?” Aimee seated herself on the turf be neath the sweetbriars. “All right then,” she said happily. “Let's forget our troubles for a bit. Sit down—you look so tall, towering up there, that I can hardly see you— and I’ll tell my news. It's much more Interesting than yours. Do you know that Alexander has got himself en gaged to my dear fat Georgie, and they’re idiotically happy?” “Has he?” cried Billy, dropping be side her. “Good for him ! She’s a real trump of a girl, that. And the parson’s as white as they make them—he’s a tine fellow.” “Yes. Georgie will exactly suit him. I shouldn’t have, a bit.” “Y'ou !” exclaimed Billy. “Exactly. Aunt Erythea’s idea is that Alexander’s marrying me. You’re not very bright today, Billy. They’ll have a funny tangle to straighten out. when the crash comes.” “Gee! They will. We'll have to help them somehow.” “Of course we shall. But I wonder how we’ll do it. And that’s not all— the Yicomte has suddenly become be trothed, as he calls it, to Alexander’s sister—Cold Lafnbe.” “She’ll tone him down,” said Billy. “Not a bit. He’ll tone her up,” re plied Aimee confidently, “and a jolly good thing, too. So there they nil are. Billy Stared Before Him Gloomily. I oughtn't to have mentioned it to you, Billy—1 know how it depresses you. It’s horrible—all this sentiment.” Billy'’ stared before him gloomily, and was silent. “Isn’t it!” insisted Aiinee. “Sickening!” said Billy, bitterly. Aiinee glanced at him and, looking away, stirred the grass with the point of his shoe. There was a long pause. “What was it you were saying about things?” said Aimee. "I told you,” replied Billy, “that- be fore tomorrow it will either be a com plete crash—or all clear.” Aimee nodded. “I see. That means, in the first case, that I'll be exploded—broken—done for—” ‘ “No!” said Billy, sharply. “It does, though. But in the second, if tilings go better—I shall just be back at Scroope, in a sort of mild dis grace—stood in the corner. That's nothing much. I’m used to it. And there you are! Well, the curtain's soon going to ring down. Our partner ship—” Billy turned to her quickly. “Is finished,” continued Almee quiet ly, looking out across the park. “I shan't he able to ride the Sphinx for you, Billy. I’m sorry about that. It would have been fun.” Billy caught his breath. “You mean,” he said slowly, “that I shan’t see you again?” “I mean that. How can you? Our little holiday is over, Billy.” His fingers closed on the turf on either side of him, and dug deep. “I understand. It's up to me. To morrow—we don’t even know each other." He let go the turf, and caught her hands. • “Aimee!” “Billy!” Before either of them knew how it happened, he had her in his arms. “I can’t let you go!” said Billy wild ly. “You’re the darling of the world. The loveliest, brightest tiling that ever breathed. Aimee—do you think—you could try-and love me?” “Love you?” said Aimee, trembling. “Who could help loving you, Billy!" He held her tight and kissed her. . “I was so frightened—” said Aimee, in a stifled voice. “Frightened—!” He held her tighter. “That you’d be frightened—” “Me!” “—of being sentimental,” panted Aimee. Billy felt stunned. _i_j ^ p “If you knew what I've been through,” lie said a little hoarsely, “this past week—trying not to let you see it!” He kissed her again—more than once. Then he sat back, his head in a whirl. There was the longest pause yet; a silence that seemed intermi nable. They were recalled to earth by n staccato noise. "Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! 'Yipe yipe!” Ainiee and Billy started violently. A small white Highland terrier, with its four legs braced, was barking at them excitedly, but not wholly with disapproval. Aimee felt stricken as though by a sudden paralysis. Behind the terrier stood Body Erytliea, erect and rigid. The glare in her eyes was the glare of a destroying Gorgon. » CHAPTER XXII Not Guilty, The guilty pair arose to their feet. Alniee, from rosy red, had turned ex tremely lvalo- There was every ex cuse for it. Lady Erythea’s expres sion was enough to unnerve the stout est heart. “And this," in a voice like the .clash ing of a motor’s gear-box, “in the face of my express warning! You are dis charged." She took a step towards Aimee. “And ns for you—” Billy interposed his large figure be tween them. “Madam,” lie said, "if you have any comments* to make, please make them to me. Or, better still—do not make them at all.” His voice was quiet and respectful. But his chin was lifted remarkably high, and his lips compressed danger ously. Lady Erythea struggled for breath. “Are you presuming,” she said, in a strangled voice, “to dictate to me!” Mr. William Spencer bowed. “I hope—my lady—that it will not be necessary. What I do presume is to defend Miss—Snooks—against any reproaches whatever. Tjiis is her afternoon off.” Aimee looked at them both—espe cially at Lady Erythea. And for once the “sand,” on which she had so often been complimented, deserted her. Ai mee turned suddenly and fled. The terrier, under the impression that it was all an extremely interest ing game got up for his amusement, pursued her out of sight round tlie bushes, giving tongue excitedly. Billy kept his eyes fixed on the in truder. . t ‘it you require an explanation, Bady Erythea,” he said quietly, “I guess I can give you one very briefly. I have just asked Miss Snooks to marry me.” Lady Erythea was mentally stag gered. ‘‘You have asked her—to marry you?” she said, staring at Billy. “And she has done me the great honor to consent.” Billy’s grim expression relaxed into a very charming smile. “1 feel sure your ladyship will not throw any obstacles in the way of this humble romance,” he said gently. “We shall be very happy to have our em ployer's approval.” His employer gazed at him dumbly. The announcement came as a shock. And it was difficult even for Lady Erythea to resist Billy's smile. As well attempt to resist a sunbeam. She melted Imperceptibly. Her faculties were bemused. ’ Billy, despite the smile, looked so extraordinarily digni fied that Lady Erythea almost felt an impulse to apologize to her chauffeur. She made an effort to recover her austerity. “You hav.e asked this girl to marry you—after an acquaintance of four days?” she said acidly. “Is that—an American custom?” Billy’s smile intensified. “I haven’t much experience, my lady,” lie said, “but I think it’s a British custom, foo—sometimes.” With two such recent examples at hand, her ladyship felt unable to con tradict him. She looked at him stead ily, wondering why she felt no resent ment. There was something so re markably disarming about Billy. “What you tell me, spencer, ' sne said at last, “places a new aspect on the case. It is, I suppose, within your discretion to engage yourself to a young woman if you wish to do so. The situation >n which I found you led me to suspect mere irresponsible philandering—a thing most stringent ly forbidden within the precincts of Jervaulx. Admitting the seriousness of your intentions,” she continued with returning indignation, “I am still unable to consider your behavior dec orous.” * “I was very careful to choose a place just outside the park boundary, my lady,” said Billy gravely, “and I was obliged to make use of the small amount of free time at my disposal.” Lady Erythea dqew a long breath. “I am making unprecedented allow ances for you, Spencer,” she said, “since I cannot forget how far I am indebted - to you for the recovery of my emeralds. If I was under a mis apprehension as to your conduct jtjst now, it was natural. I will say re in the neighborhoou of the garage, he hurried in that direction. lie was within sight from the park boundary, when Monsieur 'de Jussac, approach ing t^ie fence from the abbey, saw him and called him by name. Billy was too far away to hear. The Vicomte whistled, without result. He saw Billy disappear in the direction of the crag-pits. De Jussac hesitated, uncertain whether to follow. “Our amazing chauffeur appears to be infa hurry,” murmured Bertrand. He took out a cigarette, and smoked it reflectively. Bertrand was looking a little puzzled and anxious. Finally he wandered slowly back towards the abbey. As he neared the main entrance the quack of a motor horn was heard, and an automobile drove up rapidly. It contained the stolid Inspector Panke from Stanhoe. Beside him sat a slim and active-looking man in a gray tweed overcoat. De Jussac, raising his eyebrows, drew near unobtrusively. The man in tweeds got out and ‘stepped briskly up to Mr. Tarbeaux, who was standing on the steps. lou have a chauffeur here, said the man in tweeds quietly, “who calls himself William Spencer.” “Yes, sir,” said Mr. Tarheaux. Bertrand de Jussac moved away, with the air of one retreating from a situation with which he had no con cern. He lit a cigarette as lie went, but once on the far side of the rhodo dendrons, Monsieur de Jussac began to move with uncommon swiftness. “Is he on the premises at the mo ment?” said-the visitor. . “I do not know, sir,” replied Sir. Tarheaux with cold reserve, eyeing the police car. “If you wish to see her ladyship—” "I do. Inform her at once, if you please, that the police are here.” Mr. Tarheaux went indoors, leaving the visitor on the step. It was some little time before Lady Erytliea her self came to the entrance, grim and forbidding, ear-trumpet in hand. “I am Detective-Inspector Ark wright, from Scotland Yard,” said the visitor. “I wish to see your chauf feur, my lady—William Spencer.” “For what purpose?” said her lady Lady Erythea Inspected Him. ship, examining him icily through her lorgnette. ' “That will transpire as soon as 1 have seen him,” said ArJ;wright a little sharply. - A face peered down Cautiously from a second-floor window. It was the face of Aimee, very white and scared. She drew baelr quickly be hind the window curtains, one hand clutching and kneading them tightly" as she listened. “Does this mean,” said her ladyship with distinct hostility, “that you pro pose to arrest my chauffeur? If not, whet do you mean? He is the man who restored the emeralds to me, when the police failed to achieve any thins whatever, and 1 have complete confidence in him. If that really Is your Intention, it Is my opinion you are about to make fools of your selves.” Inspector Arkwright looked both surprised and irritated. ”1 am here with full authority, my lady,” he said abruptly, ‘‘and my task is to clear this matter up. Out of consideration for you, I have come here quite openly, and what my in-* tentions are I must at the moment keep to myself.” ‘‘It Is Spencer's afternoon off. I be lieve,” said Lady Krythea coldly. “I do not think he Is on fhe premises.” The inspector was plainly taken aback by his reception. His lips tight ened to a thin line. Just then a po liceman on a bicycle catne riding rap idly along the drive. It was Constable Poison. "Beg pardon, sir,” he said, dis mounting ami saluting the inspector, “have you found the man you are looking for here?” “Why?” said Arkwright abruptly. “Well, sir. I know him by «ight, of course,” said Poison in a lower voice —“the chauffeur. I mean—and as I came off the Stanhoe road awhile ago, I saw somebody like him crossing the forty-acre field and going towards the crag-pits. I thought I'd better hurry oh and tell you. I'tn sure it was he.” “Excellent! You are a man that keeps his eyes open,” exclaimed In spector Arkwright. “Cotne, Panke— leave the car here. Poison, show us the way.” The three f>f them departed to gether hurriedly in the direction of five park boundary. ' Lady Erythea stared after them with mingled aifger and anxiety. She waited for some time on the steps, pondering, and then went slowly in doors. Her eyes were troubled. The three police, crossing the park, left it by a wicket gate near the sweet-briar clump. After a short con sultation with t’olson, Inspector Ark wright gave an order. The three men spreading out in a wide semi-circle, stalked the crag-pits by way of the lower rtjWidow. CHAPTER XXIII Jack the Climber. Mr. William Spencer, after arriving in the fallow-field where stood the clump of hushes that hid the broken Indian motorcycle, made a rapid sur vey of the situation. He resumed his task of quartering the ground for tracks. » This, being unfruitful, occupied but a little time. He gave it up and went forward again, dipping down into the crag-pits beyond. Billy had formed upon the factors already in his possession a -theory which appealed to him strongly. He hoped to prove It. But the Un>pe was Very slender. “If I'd only got wise to this two days ago,” lie said gloomily, “I might have done something. But there's no saying how old- the tracks are. And there's so little time.” He looked about him thoughtfully. The area of the crag-pits covered some twenty acres; a wide bottom of red sand studded here and there with tangled bushes. The place was shut in by low red bluffs of coraline crag, with a few gaps in them through which winding paths sloped up to the higher ground. “The soil tells me nothing,” said Billy to himself; “too loose and wind-* blown to hold a trail more than two days. But there’s five—maybe six eaves, most of them too plain and easy—anybody can see ’em. Still, I’ll go over them. My own first. I guess there’s nobody could have found that.” He wound his way through the bushes to the screen of brambles that masked the cave where Aimee had taken refuge on the night of the bur glary, and after scanning the, ground near its approaches, pushed tlie briars aside and entered cautiously. The cave was empty—save for that super motorcycle, the 1 lying Sphinx, which stood waiting in patient dumbness at fhe far end, weeping slow tears of oil into a little pool beneath the silencer. Billy laid a hand upon his Arab steed, and sighed. Then his face brightened amazingly. “Your time’ll come again — and mighty soon!” he said with .affection. He turned, and left the cave. If was holy ground to him now; for one night it had been Aimee’s refuge. He passed farther along the pits, inspecting a second and much more obvious cave on his way. lie was just about to emerge from it when some thing caught Billy’s eye, on the -far side of the pits. He shrank back quickly into the cave’s inputh and flat tened himself against the wall, watch ing. The object which gave him pause was very small, and fully four hun dred yards distant. But it showed against the sky-line%and to the eye of a frontiersman anything that cuts the sky-line, and that moves ever so little, is at once apparent. What Billy saw was the upper part of a head, peering over the edge of the little cliff on the opposite side. A pair of shoulders followed the head, and their owner was obviously watching the pit with a desire to dis^ cover whether the coast was clear. There was a curious furtiveness about the figure thrft presently appeared, and dropping down the cliff by a steep path reached the lower ground and crossed it at a run. Billy crept rrom the gloom of the cave’s mouth and, croaching behind the briar bushes, peered through them eagerly. The running figure vras a woman—a small woman clad in a khaki-colored dust-cloak, carrying a little red bundle. She ran with a stooping gait, bending low as she1 .—.-p-=. threaded between the hashes. She reached a point against the cliff on Billy’s side, three hundred yards far ther along, close by a tangle of under growth. There she halted, and, look ing round her quickly, disappeared with extreme suddenness. “Great Christopher!” said Billy. lie rose to his knees, staring at the place where she had vanished. His eyes were bright, his face had lit up. “I wms right,” he said in a hushed tone. “But, gee! I never thought of this.” He rose, as if to follow, hut on sec ond thoughts subsided again and waited. He remained there fully ten minutes, when the figure reappearedf and hurried along the pit bottom in his direction. Billy wormed himself hurriedly un der the tnngled briars at some cost to his skin. The woman passed him ■Within seventy yards, walking rapidly. She was no longer carrying the bundle. When she had passed,'Billy peeped after her. Though he could not see The Running Figure Was a Woman. lier face, he had not the slightest doubt who she was. She disappeared round the bend of the pits. Billy extricated himself cautiously from the bush and waited for soma time on his knees, staring in the di rection she had taken. There was notldng more to be seen of her. Then, springing to li^i feet he sprinted to tlie spot where she had first vanished with the bundle. ~ The bushes partially cloaked the mouth of one of the many cragicaves; the entrance was not difficult find when one was close to it. Billy walked in without hesitation. He found pre cisely what he expected. On tlie floor of tlie cave, stretched upon a couch of dry bracken, lay a man. He was not a spectacle which, in any way gladdened the eye. He was hig and lusty of limb; w’hat little could be seen of his face through a week’s growth or brown stubble was haggard. His beak of a nose jutted between, two fierce deep-sunk eyes. One of his legs was’extended, and swathed from foot to knee in dripping-wet cal ico bandages that looked as if they had been ripped from a woman’s gar ment.^ Biliy found himself looking down the muzzle of a .small repeating pistol, held in a hairy but very steady list. “Stop right where you are,” said the occupant of the cave, reclining on one elbow. “Don’t move a step forward, nor yet a step back. Get me?” Billy stopped obediently. He cal culated the distance between them to be fi dozen feet; there was no likeli hood of capturing the pistol before the bullet struck him. The eyes of the man showed that he meant busi ness. He was in fact, less like a man than a crippled wolf. “Jack the Climber,” said Billy blandly, “I am pleased to meet you. I’ve been looking for you quite a while.” “Don’t give me that fool name!” snarled the caveman. “My name Is Jake.” “Anything to oblige. Mr. Jake, there’s the little matter of the Jer vaulx burglary against you, among others.” “What are you gi\in’ me!” retorted Jake. “The bluff doesn’t go,” said Billy. “Your motorcycle’s yonder in the clay pit. All the cards are ont.” The man’s face twitched. “Are you the police?” “No,” said Billy. Jake stared at the tall form In front of him, and emitted a startled oath. “I b’lieve you’re the guy that slugged me, last Saturday night,” he said. “Quite correct.” “You’re on your own, eh?” Jake’s head craned forward, his eyes on Billy’s face. “And alone, I guess!” “Do you take me for a fool?” said Billy calmly. The man shivered. The expression in his eyes was dreadful. “See here!” he said sullenly. “You’ve got me set. I can’t move. I’m up agninst it. I know they’ll pull me. Well, I’ll take my dose. I’ll throw my hand in!” “Wise of you.” .—. “Let her go!" said Aimee, breathlessly. "Let her go!” (TO BE CONTINUED.) Honest. “Can you pick out a good canta loupe.” “Not even for myself,” refilled the truthful grocer.